Walking on Coals
by Somepersonwithapencil0315
Summary: Percy Jackson isn't just the man of the household since his father left when he was younger. He IS the household. Even since his mother has fallen ill, so ill that she can't even stand, he's had to keep the house running and eating, setting food on the table for years. He's had to hunt for food, trade and clean. And the only reason he lives is because of one girl. Katniss Everdeen.
1. Chapter 1

Katniss

I walk through the trees, the satisfying sound of leaves crunching under my feet soothing my nerves.

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself. Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as I climb the hills over to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.

"Hey, Catnip," says Gale. "Look what I shot."

He holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh. It's real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves we make from out grain rations. Fine bread like this is for special occasions.

"Mm, still warm," I say. He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for it. "What did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I say, not even bothering to roll my eyes. "Prim left us a cheese." I pull it out.

His expression brightens at the treat. "Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast." Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names of the reaping. "I almost forgot. Happy Hunger Games!" he plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds—" he tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

I catch it in my mouth and break the delicate skin with my teeth. The sweet tartness explodes across my tongue. "—be _ever_ in your favor!" I finish with equal verve. We have to joke about it because the alternative it to be scared out of your wits. Besides, the Capitol accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny in it.

I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread.

Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each while I strip the bushes of their berries. We settle back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, we are invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight.

"We could do it, you know," he says.

"What?"

* * *

After a scary and quixotic conversation with Gale and fishing, we start to head over to the strawberry patch I found a few years ago.

As we walk over, I hear a rustle of a disturbed bush. I look over to see a stag, pretty lean with a good, muscled limbs and pretty meaty upper body. I'm pretty sure it'll make a good price at the Hob.

I slowly draw an arrow, notching it and pulling the string back.

I hear Gale lean in close, his mouth to my ear.

"What are you planning to do with a whole stag?" he whispers, trying not to scare it off despite his disagreement.

"I'm going to sell it," I whisper back, aiming for the eye. "I'm sure he'll make a good sell at the Hob."

He stays quiet, leaning away as I prepare to let the string loose.

Then it wails, a throwing dagger suddenly appearing at its neck. It staggers back, wailing in pain as it tries to run away.

Another dagger makes an appearance at its head, close to the eye.

It falls to the ground, blood slowly seeping out of the two bloody yet clean wounds.

Gale and I duck, waiting to see who the culprit that took my kill was.

As we duck down behind a log, we see a boy about my age, maybe a year older, jump down a boulder behind a tree that kept us from seeing him. I stare as he pulls the daggers out, seeing the wounds are actually cleaner than I thought. A perfect slice where the daggers hit, no ragged edges. I raise my brows, impressed.

He looks around while tucking the two, beautifully crafted daggers into a belt that holds multiple daggers—both throwing and usual stabbing daggers—almost like if he knew someone else was in his presence but he looks back down at his kill and hauls the stag over his shoulder, carrying it _himself_. He's obviously strong. But who is he? I've never seen him at the Seam. If he has to hunt for himself, he's got to be around the Seam.

He leaves, leaving Gale and I staring after him. We both stay quiet until we know he's gone.

"Who is he?" I ask.

"That's…that's um, I forgot his name, but he's in my class. He's not really social and he lags at school. Not much of a talker," he says.

I look back at the previous spot.

"How come we never came across him in hunts?" I wonder aloud.

Gale shrugs, seeming irritated that someone else was taking our game.

"I don't know, but let's just get the strawberries," he says.

I nod, walking with him but looking back at the spot the boy was at. Who is he?

* * *

**Hey guys! I know that I have another story but I've been writing this one longer and I just wanted to see how much people would like it or read it. I hope you guys enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! I wasn't exactly satisfied posting just ****_one_**** chapter of this fanfic so I decided to just go ahead and post another. I hope you notice how the environment sort molds people, like how it molded Percy into who he is now. He's still loyal and caring but he's a...****_lot_**** more intense. Just gonna warn you for furthur reference. Okay, so on with the story!**

* * *

Percy

I wake up, the sunlight hitting my eyes in my very decrepit house of sorts and sit up, taking a deep breath. The smell of sour air and dust meets my nostrils. This really doesn't help my mom's sickness but it's all we've got. I've spent so much time trying to clean my brother's and mom's room that I don't think about cleaning mine of the dust and chipping wood.

I throw my blankets off, throwing my legs over the side of my lumpy, makeshift mattress and sigh, stretching my hands over my head.

I stand up, cracking my back and neck, groaning, remembering what day it was: the day of the Reaping.

I automatically reach over to my only pair of pants, shoving them on and reaching over to my belt that holds my daggers. I have to get up early to get the good meat to trade at the Hob.

I take each dagger, handmade from Tyson, my thirteen-year-old half-brother that is amazing at metalwork. I don't know how but he somehow transforms metal scraps from the trash or from the floor into amazing daggers or things like pans or spatulas or practically anything that I know that's metal. But we never get to use them because we have nothing to use them on. We can't afford food without me going to the Hob and trading game and selling them isn't an option without Peacekeepers executing us for "inciting a rebellion". My little brother's talent sadly can't be realized.

I swiftly put the daggers in their holders and tuck the belt under my pants and—since it looks a bit weird around my waist line trying to hide the daggers—I let my yellowing-white, loose shirt fall over it and button the few buttons left up. I pull a leather vest over it and put on fingerless gloves that protect my palm when I'm out in the woods and wielding a dagger. There was this one time when I was fifteen when I accidentally caught one of my daggers by the blade and it didn't end well.

I walk down the old, creaky stairs, slowly making my way to my mom's room. I see the opening of her room, the door was broken down so I had to take it off and she lays there in the thickest blanket in the house. Tyson and I both agreed to give it to her because of her condition.

My mother's illness has been affecting her for five years and since then I've had to get the house going and alive. I've been collecting medicine herbs from a healer farther up the Seam and hunt in the woods for four years.

The first year was a confusing year. What happened around me was all a blur. All I knew was that mom said she was getting sick and no one was making the food anymore. I didn't know what to do. I always expected mom to get up and make us some beet sauce or something but it just stopped happening. Mom was always stuck in bed, coughing and hacking, throwing up and her fever skyrocketing. I didn't know what to do, I was just twelve. I just kept going to school, the words looking like mush so I stopped trying. I had no one to motivate me. Tyson said that he was starting to get hungry and moaning complaints, whining and crying, saying he was starving. I didn't notice that I was starving also until I notice Tyson not get out of bed one morning. I walked into his room, looking for him when I saw him in his bed, saying that he was really hungry. I saw his emaciated body and then I felt myself slowly draining away also. I was just in La-la Land too long, waiting for mom to come back to notice. At first I felt anger toward my mom but then I notice that I'm the only one old and strong enough to actually _do_ anything. It was all _my_ fault that Tyson was like this. After going around, looking for a job for weeks and months, not getting anything and my brother and mom were barely alive, I was desperate.

That day, I just got rejected to work at the bakery. I hung my head low, kicking a pebble in front of me.

Then a girl ran passed me, practically shoving me to the ground. She looked back at me and her gray eyes met mine. Then, she just kept running.

I kept my eyes on her and then saw her run passed buildings and then gone.

Finding that odd, I followed her trail, seeing her go farther down and into the forbidden Meadow. I kept following her until she climbed over the fence and, as stupid as I am today, I followed. After waiting a couple minutes, I followed again just so she wouldn't hear me following her. I followed her throughout the day, seeing her meet up with a boy she called Gale and she was Catnip. I'm not sure what her real name was. But after following them, they come across a strawberry patch and my mouth watered. I waited until they were done picking and then they left. I picked out some for myself, about to bite into one until I remembered Tyson and mom. I took off my rag-jacket and picked a bucket load of blackberries and strawberries. After I was done, I followed the duo again, seeing them hunt actual game. The girl actually shot every single animal straight in the eye with her bow and arrows. I watched in awe of her gift. After they were done, they jumped the fence and I waited until they were passed the Meadow when I climbed the fence myself and ran home with the jacket-load of berries home. I ran straight to the kitchen, washing the berries of the dirt and just cleaning them so mom wouldn't have any other sickness passed onto her and took out a wooden bowl that Tyson attempted to make. He didn't do a bad job at trying but he only made one.

I filled the bowl with berries and rushed to mom's room, telling her that I found berries and she took them without question. I ran to Tyson's room to see him skin and bones when I gave him the whole jacket of berries. He didn't know what they were at first since he's never seen them before but when I tossed one in my mouth, savoring the sweet taste of the strawberry, he took a handful and ate to his fill. At the bottom of my jacket, I saw a couple left and saved them for myself. After I was sure my stomach was full, I realized that I still have hope. I secretly thanked those two kids and felt like I owed them my brother's and mother's lives. I've been going to the forest ever since, finding a makeshift knife that was actually a scrap of metal with a sharp edge and a deer antler that was sharpened to a point. Since then, I promised to always provide for my family no matter what. I visited the local healer and collected medicinal herbs for mom and still go every time we run out. I haven't seen those two kids as much, but every once in a while I hear them walk and make a bush rustle or talk.

When Tyson was at his full strength, he told me to go collect all the scraps of metal I can find with him picking some up on the walk home from school too. One day, he was hunched over a fireplace at the back of the house and I started to walk toward him, asking what he was doing. Before I could reach him, he told me to go away and that it was a surprise. I was fourteen at the time and I had to go trade at the Hob so I didn't think anything of it in my rush. Then a couple days later, I found him sitting cross-legged in my room, a big smile on his face. I narrowed my eyes at him. What is this trickster up to? I thought.

He pulled out ten perfect, beautiful, throwing daggers from behind him. I gasped at the sight, running my fingers over the beautiful engraved design along the handles and half-way down the edge of the blades. These are _much_ better than my antler daggers. I couldn't have gotten a better gift from my little brother. Since that day, he's made my two knives and sharpened my daggers for when they dulled. Since I've gotten them, I've been getting better at them to the point where I don't even have to aim.

After I walk away from mom's room and go out the door, I run passed closed, gray shutters looking around at the empty streets. Well, the Reaping doesn't start until two, might as well spend as much time with your kid at home as you can. Today is Tyson's second year. I've had to get three tesserae every year and told Tyson not to get any. So his name is in twice and mine is in fifteen times.

I jog passed the Meadow, climbing over the fence and I decide to go get some blackberries from a rock ledge.

As I walk over there, I see a figure standing there. I freeze, my hand taking out a dagger and I get ready to throw it any time. As I stare at him more, I see his face and find him eerily familiar. Is he that kid Gale?

I tuck my dagger back in, groaning inwardly and deciding to head to the strawberry patch where Gale and Catnip have generously put a mesh net around it to keep the animals out and leave some fresh, not eaten strawberries for the guy that they don't even know hunts in the woods. I pick out a bag full of strawberries and move on, wandering around the forest.

I hear the sound of disturbed leaves and I look over, seeing a squirrel. I swiftly take out a dagger and quickly throw it, getting it in the head. I put it in my game bag and move on, catching a rabbit here and squirrel there and visit a beehive that I collect honey from after I make a small fire and let the smoke drift into the nest and try to make the job fast.

Then I hear a disturbed bush and I turn around, expecting a squirrel but I find a pretty good-looking stag. It has perfect build and everything. Good price down at the Hob. It'll be a bargain with Greasy Sae but maybe she'll be generous today.

I throw the knife, not needing to aim to know it's gonna hit its neck and it stumbles, giving out a wail of pain. I throw another at its head and then it goes down.

I jump down the boulder I stand on and hear hushed whispers in the wind. I slide the daggers out of its neck and head, looking around as I tuck them into my belt and then look back down to my kill. Better get it down to the Hob before people start swarming the streets. I haul it over my shoulder and carry it to the fence, miraculously getting it over without hurting its body. Greasy Sae is very picky about her products. If the knife wounds I made are the least ragged, she offers an anchovy for it.

As I go to the Hob, I immediately go to Greasy Sae and we have bargain war. We go on like that for about twenty minutes until we decide on a couple chunks of paraffin. I trade a jar of honey for a needle and yarn. I also switch the squirrels for new metal working gloves for Tyson and some good bread. I trade two rabbits for salt and the bag of strawberries for some potatoes. I'm thinking about making rabbit stew for Tyson and mom after the reaping.

As I head home, I notice two familiar figures. Gale, who I saw earlier today, and a girl. She looks familiar. Her appearance rings a bell. I shrug it off, heading off home with the rabbit, needle and yarn, potatoes and gloves. I guess I did good today.

I walk home, avoiding other people's gazes and see my house in the distance.

I open the creaky old door and see mom up, wobbly walking over to Tyson's room.

"Hey mom," I say, smiling at her standing.

She's been pushing herself to stand. This is the third time this week that she stands. I could make a good guess as to why she's standing up _today_. It's the Reaping.

She turns to me, her pasty, red with fever-ed face smiles warmly at me.

"Percy! Oh good. I thought you'd be late," she says, stumbling over to me and catching herself on the old table that could barely hold our food.

I hold her up, smiling at her and kissing her forehead.

"Hi mom. I've got a rabbit and potatoes and some greens. Maybe we could make some rabbit stew," I suggest.

"Yeah, okay. Now get dressed!" She rushes, nodding and shooing me to my room. "I laid out your clothes on your bed. Go put them on and then I'll make supper when we get back home," she says. I know that deep down, she actually wants to say 'when we _all_ get back home' but there's no guarantee that me or Tyson will get back. But it'll most likely be me to not come home. Tyson has two of his names out of thousands. How could he get picked?

"Alright," I mumble, letting go of her as she goes back to Tyson's room, obviously trying to help him with a rip in his shirt. "Oh mom," I say. I go back to the things I got and take out the needle and yarn. "Here," I say, handing it to her.

She smiles warmly at me. "Oh, thank you, Percy. Just what I needed."

Tyson comes into the room, a smile on his face as he sees me. "What'd you get me?" he asks.

I cross my arms, looking him up and down in his best attire. A faded, blue button-down shirt with the rip and khakis. His shoes are torn and riddled with holes, but still somehow held together.

"How do you know I got you something?" I ask, raising a brow.

His smile disappears. "Well, I didn't want to assume. If you didn't get me anything, I'm fine with it—" he begins.

I laugh, ruffling up his hair as I hand him metal-working gloves. He gasps, fawning over them.

"I'll use them right after the Reaping!" he says, smiling and bounding away with mom struggling to stay on his trail.

Even though we don't say it, I guess we all sort of came to an agreement to just say that we were all gonna get home. That we won't get called and that everything will be fine. And it's been working since I was twelve. What's gonna stop it from working now?

I go to my room and see a pretty decent quality button down shirt and pants. I wash myself with a bucket of water as best I can and put the clothes on. As I button down the shirt, I walk down the creaky stairs and look at the only mirror in the house, looking at my blue-green eyes and raven hair framing my olive-tanned face. Average, typical District 12 person has dark hair and steely gray eyes but I guess my dad must've had a recessive gene. Tyson, however, was born with gray eyes but has sandy brown hair.

"You look so much like your father," mom's voice says from behind me. I jump, startled but turn around. She chuckles, coming up to me and working on my collar. "Sorry about that. Just one more year Percy then you'll be rid of this," she says encouragingly.

"But what about Tyson?" I ask.

She bites her lip, going over to the chair and running a hand through her hair.

"I don't know. Endure it," she says.

I open my mouth to say something but shut it quickly. One thing I've learned is that trash talking the system only brings you trouble. I used to terrify mom when I was small because of some things I've said. Then after a couple months I took a hint and learned to keep my mouth shut and keep myself indifferent to things. Soon that act sort of became natural for me and then it became me. I just can't seem to stop now, only when I'm at home.

I sigh. It sucks.

Tyson comes into the room, the rip in his shirt barely noticeable now and mom claps her hands.

"Alright. Let's go," she says, straining to keep a smile but Tyson and I don't bother to make one. There is no reason to make one. Twenty-four kids are about to be sent to their deaths in an arena in which we have no idea of what could happen. Only the Capitol people would smile. I find it revolting that they do.

We sullenly walk to the square, the only place that is actually pretty pleasing on any other day but despite the bright banners and decorations, grim sadness floats through the air like a thick fog.

I reluctantly leave Tyson to go line up at the front while he's at the back. I look at the perimeter of family members and see my mom stand next to a family friend, gripping her hand tightly as she sees me. She gives a small, encouraging smile and I smile back, nodding a small reassurance.

I look back at the front and see a boy at the front, stare at me. Guess who that boy is. It's Gale Hawethorn. What's up with him today? He's been staring at me at the Hob a lot thinking I haven't noticed. I've gone there four years and we've been in the same school for life. What's up with the sudden interest? I ignore him as I look forward toward the stage, watching the clock, willing it to go faster so we could get this over with but I have no such affect.

Then after waiting fifteen minutes in agony, the clock strikes two and Mayor Undersee stands up at the stage, smiling down on us as we watch him blankly.

I zone out in the speech. I've heard it five times too many. It's always about North America and how Panem grew in the ashes of it. Then about the Dark Ages and about how the annual Hunger Games was born. I know the speech all too well.

Then he lists off District 12's victors. Out of all victors in Panem, there are exactly two in District 12 and only one lives. Haymitch Abernathy. I watch as he staggers onto the stage and the audience responds with a dull applaud as I clap my hands lightly, not even paying attention. All I can tell is that he's drunk…again.

And then he calls up Effie Trinket, the _way_ too hyper and happy escort for District 12. She goes up to the stage, sporting pink hair and a spring-green suit. Her blazing white smile sends shivers down my back.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" she squeals into the microphone, her happiness a glowing aura around her, looking foreign in our dull, gray grimness.

She makes her own little cheery speech about being honored to be here and all that crap. As she still talks, it's finally times for the drawings.

"Ladies first!" she says as always. She walks over to the ball holding thousands of girls' names. Of thousands, only one gets picked. One girl to go into the Hunger Games an meet their inevitable death.

She lets her hand linger over the slips of names before digging in deep and grabbing one. She walks back to the microphone and opens up the slip, her grin pasted onto her face.

"Primrose Everdeen," she announces.

I think nothing of it, waiting for the girl to come up but what I don't expect is a little twelve year old girl, her eyes wide in terror as she walks up to the stage, her steps reluctant and she tucks in the back of her dress shirt.

I watch, my lips parted as the little girl walks down the aisle, her face pale and her fists held stiffly at her sides.

"Prim!" a strangled cry comes from the crowd of sixteen year olds. I look back, seeing the dark haired girl with Gale at the Hob burst out of the crowd. "Prim!" she cries again, her voice clearer.

She runs up to the little girl, reaching her while she makes the first step and grabbing her arm, pulling her behind her and standing in front of her protectively.

"I volunteer!" she says suddenly.

I stand there, shell shocked, all my muscles stiff. Did she just say…

"I volunteer as tribute," she announces.

The crowd goes silent and there's confusion arising in the stage. It's been a couple decades since someone has volunteered. If people are as good as dead when their names are called, the people that volunteer are serving themselves on a silver platter.

"Lovely!" says Effie. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing Reaping winners and then asking for volunteers…"

"Oh, what does it matter?" the mayor says, a pained expression on his face. I think he knows the girl. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

"No," the little girl, Prim, mutters. "No, no! Katniss, no! No! You can't go!" she screams hysterically.

"Prim, let go," Katniss says harshly. Her face is angled in a way that I can see it clearer. There's something familiar about it but I just can't put my finger on it.

"Let go!" she repeats. Gale comes up to them and actually _pulls_ Prim off of Katniss as she thrashes in his arms.

"Up you go, Catnip," he says.

My heart seizes and my blood runs cold. The sudden memory of that girl I followed into the woods suddenly comes into my mind and Gale with that girl. "Hello Catnip…" was his usual greeting.

She's the one that saved my family…and I still owe her.

I stand there extremely shocked at what I just discovered and what just happened. I don't pay attention to anything. All I am aware of is Haymitch yelling at the camera. Even then I have no idea what he's saying.

Then Effie walks over to the boy's bowl and my brain starts to fight itself in my head. It's a decision between rationality and craziness. So far, the crazy idea is starting to sound less crazy by the second. Effie draws out a name and takes it up to the mic.

"Peeta Mellark," she says aloud.

Before I could register, words come out of my mouth and I raise my hand in the air, bursting out of the group of seventeen year olds and into the clear aisle.

I just realized that I just volunteered. By the look on Katniss' and everyone else's face, they're just as shocked as I am.

"I volunteer as tribute," I repeat, not bothering to look at the rest but Effie. I can't make eye contact with people when I've done something that I know they'll find me stupid for doing. But no matter how selfish it is…it's for personal purposes only.

"Oh well…" Effie says, seeming surprised at how productive this day is. "This sure is an exciting day, isn't it?" she says.

"Come on up, darling," she says.

I walk up to the stage, trying my best to keep my face indifferent. I hear a voice call my name and I look back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! If you're reading this and don't already know about my unorganized chapter updates then you should know now. I am not organized. Y'know those authors who are like 'oh, I'm gonna update every wensday or friday or every week'? Yeah? Well, I'm not those authors. I'm the ones that post when they can/want to post. If you don't like that then I'm sorry but you'll have to deal with it.**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

Percy

I turn back and see Tyson is in the back, shoving through the crowd and running towards me. Peacekeepers start to head toward the small thirteen year old until I run up to him too, meeting him halfway.

I embrace the thirteen year old as I murmur that it's gonna be alright even though it's most likely not. There's only one victor in the Hunger Games, not two. And if the victor will be anyone, it'll be Katniss. I'll make sure of that.

"Alright, buddy. Go back now," I say, pushing him away at arm's length.

"No, Percy. You can't do this!" he says, shaking his head and keeping an iron grip on me. "You can't go. Who's going to take care of mom?" he asks, tears streaming down his face.

"You will," I say. "Listen, it's time for _you_ to be the man of the house. You could do it. I know you can."

Peacekeepers start to pull him away and he reaches out for me, screaming my name and pleading for them to let him go.

I watch solemnly and walk back to the stage, struggling to keep myself indifferent.

"Oh, well…this sure is a loving day now, isn't it?" Effie says. No one in the audience says a word.

She clears her throat and turns to us. "Now, shake hands."

I turn to Katniss as she turns to me. I shake her hand, feeling her soft, small one in my rough one.

Then they play the anthem and near the end, Peacekeepers escort us to the Justice Building and leave me in a room and Katniss in another. The first visitors are mom and Tyson. And most likely the only visitors.

I hear the door open and I turn around, seeing a teary-eyed Tyson and a crying mom. I stand up, opening my arms wide and they walk into my hug, embracing me while I embrace them. We stay like that for a while, just standing there.

Once we separate, I sit on the bed that's there for no absolute reason and pull Tyson at my side and mom sits beside me.

"Why? Why on earth would you volunteer?" My mom asks, looking at me with confusion and betrayal in her eyes.

I look down. "It's personal."

She looks at me, raising a brow. "What? Do you _like_ Katniss Everdeen?" she asks.

I furrow my brows and Tyson chuckles, looking up at me. I look at both of them, my mouth hanging open.

"What? No! I hardly know her…well, I've seen her but…it's just something I have to do," I say.

"Something you have to do so badly that you would go into the Hunger Games for?" mom asks, obviously not expecting an answer but I give it to her anyways.

"Yes," I say.

She looks at me.

"What did she do?" she asks.

I look at the floor, at her then Tyson.

"Well, she did it but…she doesn't exactly know," I say.

They both look at me quizzically. Almost as if asking _You're doing her a favor for something she did but she doesn't know she did?_

"She…gave me hope. She helped me save you guys," I say. "She can hunt. I've seen her hunt before…but with the Careers around, it might not be enough."

They stay quiet. Tyson grabs hold of my hand and puts something metal in it. It feels like a pin. I let go of his hand, looking at what he gave me. It's a pin of a Mockingjay. A genetically altered bird that was actually a bio-engineered Jabberjay, a bird that could repeat anything it hears. They would send them to enemy territory and listen up on their plans or actions, then come back here to tell us what they overheard. But then some of them didn't come back or brought back wrong information so the Capitol decided to just let them free. They expected them to die out there in the wild but instead, they started to reproduce with the Mockingbird, soon creating an all new, crossbred species, the Mockingjay.

"W-when did you make it?" I ask.

"Madge, the mayor's daughter, asked me to make her one to give to her friend but…I decided to give it to you. Percy, just promise me one thing," he says.

I nod, not even knowing what he's asking me to promise.

"Promise me that, if she doesn't make it, you'll give this your all. You'll try _anything_ to win," he says. "Anything."

I hesitate.

"You can hunt. You always bring back rabbits or something else from the Hob. You could do it," he says.

_Only if she doesn't make it,_ I think. I nod, hugging him. "Yes, Tyson. I will."

I turn to mom, hugging her too as she sobs into my shoulder.

"It's alright mom. I'll be fine," I lie. The Peacekeeper opens the door, implying that it's time to leave. I hug mom and Tyson. "I love you guys."

They hug back, tears staining my clothes and I'm on the brink of tears by leaving them. I should've thought this through but all I thought about was paying the debt I owed her.

The Peacekeeper escorts them out and I sit back on the bed, getting ready to cry because I'm sure no one else will visit me. But then I hear the door open. I squash down the urge to cry and look up. It's Peeta Mellark, the boy I volunteered for.

He looks me up and down, giving me a confused face.

"Why?" he asks.

I look at the ground, not answering.

"This is suicide. No one would _ever_ volunteer to enter the Hunger Games unless they're either desperately desperate or want to die young," he says.

I look at him. "It's for personal reasons," I answer.

He looks at me. "Personal reasons, huh?"

I nod, my jaw tightening.

"And what personal reasons are these?" he asks.

"Nothing you should know of," I say.

He stares at me, telling me he isn't gonna get off my back about this. I roll my eyes. "She…helped me save my family."

His eyes soften, and I see pity in them. My blood boils.

"I don't need your pity," I growl, turning away from him.

"It's not pity. It's just that…I knew her. I thought that you volunteered to…just…" he says.

I look at him quizzically when I realize what he means.

"No, no! That's sick, why would you think that?" I ask, shaking my head.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I just…did."

I shake my head. "No, man. That's sick. I don't have anything against her. In fact, I want to _save_ her."

The Peacekeeper comes in, signaling that our chat time is now over.

I stay on the bed, just rubbing my eyes and feeling stressed. What the hell am I gonna do?

* * *

Katniss

The escorting to the train station is all a blur. All I can remember is that I was right not to cry. It was swarming with reporters and hosts of Capitol shows. I can remember wiping my face of emotion and catching a glimpse of myself on a big screen, seeing my bored-looking appearance. I looked over to the boy, Percy. He was in the forest this morning, killed the stag I was about to get. What is he doing volunteering for the Games?

He looked just as emotionless as I looked, but I saw the face hiding behind that façade. When he ran for his brother, all I could see was a big brother wanting to protect his brother and would do anything for him. But what I don't get is that he volunteered for the Games and left his brother behind. It makes no sense.

Then I'm here in the train, marveling at the fanciness of it. A 250 mile per hour moving train has rooms much more beautiful than the rooms in the Justice Building. We have a living area, our own rooms, own private bathrooms with hot and cold running water. We only had warm water when we boiled it. Effie tells me that I can do whatever I want, wear whatever I want and everything is at my disposal as long as I'm at dinner in an hour.

I go to my room and peel off my mother's blue dress and take a long, hot shower. I've never taken a shower before. It's like rain, but warmer. After I'm done, I put on a dark green shirt and pants. When I'm all dressed, I remember Madge's pin that she gave me. I remove it from the dress and get a good look at it for the first time.

It's a bird. A bird inside a golden ring held only by the tips of its wings. I recognize the bird. It's a Mockingjay. I fasten the pin to my shirt and, seeing the dark green background of my shirt, I can almost imagine it flying through the trees.

Effie comes to escort me to dinner after a while and I enter a grand room with a long polished table and highly breakable plates. Percy sits on a chair, waiting for us and the chair next to him empty.

"Where's Haymitch?" Effie asks.

"Last I heard, he said he was taking a nap," Percy answers, his voice shocking me. I expected an absolutely deep voice from him, since his strength and appearance suggested it, but it sounds surprisingly normal. His voice is still deep but not as deep as I'd imagined.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Effie Trinket. I think she's a bit relieved that he can't make it. Then again, who wouldn't be?

The supper comes in courses. A thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruits and a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal, Effie Trinket keeps reminding us to save space because there's more to come. Despite her reminders, I stuff myself because I've never had food like this and unlimited.

"At least you two have decent manners," says Effie as we're finishing the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

Her comment makes my blood boil. The pair last year were a couple of kids from the Seam who'd never, not once in their lives, had enough to eat. I'm pretty sure that, with all this food, table manners were at the back of their minds. I'm not sure about Percy but my mother taught me and Prim how to eat properly, so yes, I can handle a knife and fork. But I hated Effie's comment so much that I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. Then I wipe my hands on the tablecloth. This makes her purse her lips tightly together.

Now that I'm done, I struggle to keep the food down. I could see Percy turn just a bit green but he doesn't look like he struggles. He looks content, leaning back in his seat and holding his full stomach.

Then we watch the recap of the Reaping.

There are the usual intimidating Careers from 1 and 2. An agile girl named Clarisse from 3 and 4 seem alright. A fox-faced redhead from 5, a blond with gray eyes named Annabeth and a fourteen year old boy, Nico, from 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve year old from 11. Her name was Rue. She had mocha skin and curly brown hair and when the asked for volunteers, no one came up. And then came us. When Prim was called and I volunteered and when Percy made the insane decision to volunteer for Peeta. The announcers said that District 12 has always been a bit backwards but that the local customs can be charming. As if on cue, Haymitch falls off the stage, and they groan comically. Then they cut the anthem and the program ends.

Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about televised behavior."

Percy dares to snicker the slightest bit. "What difference does it make? He's drunk every year."

I smile the slightest bit. "Every day," I add.

Effie makes it sound like Haymitch just has somewhat rough manners that could be corrected by a few tips from her.

"Yes," she hisses. "How odd you two are the least bit amused by this. Your mentor is the one that advises you, lines up your sponsors and dictates the presentation of any gifts. He might as well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Just then, Haymitch appears at the doorway, staggering into the compartment. "I miss supper?" her slurs. Then he vomits all over the floor in front of him and passes out into the sour, acrid mess.

"So laugh away!" she says. She hops in her pointy shoes around the vomit and flees the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey bros! Just as I said in my other fanfic, it's been _way_ too long! Sorry guys! Well, I'm sure that you noticed that I usually update chapter into both at the same time so, if you don't mind, can you take a small peek at my other fanfic? Tell me if it's any good? Thanks, bros!**

**And for the comments and readers and followers: Thank you so eff-ing much! All the comments are nice and...not flames or insults! I did _not_ ****expect that. I mean, my fanfics are a bit amatuerish (at least _I_ think so) and your comments really make my days. Thank you so much! I love you all!**

**Unnecessary disclaimer: I own nothing**

* * *

**Percy**

Katniss and I watch Haymitch attempt to get up from the vomit. She looks to be struggling to keep her food down. I don't blame her. The smell of half digested spirits and wine isn't a pleasant one. Katniss and I both turn to each other. Haymitch isn't much but what Effie said is true. Once we get in the arena, he's gonna be all that we've got. Which sucks a bit.

We both help Haymitch up. It looks like we've both come to an agreement. Well, if we did, I only came halfway. No matter what, I'll protect her in the arena, Haymitch or not. Protect her from attacking Careers, protect her from weather conditions, protect her from anything poisonous. Probably anything that I can protect her from.

"Did I trip?" he asks. "Smells bad." He wipes his hand over his nose, smearing it with his vomit.

"Alright, that is pretty disgusting," I say simply. "Now let's get you to your room and get you cleaned up."

We haul him to his room and decide that taking him to bed then the shower would be a waste of time. We just haul him to the bathroom and dump him in the bathtub, turning on the shower and having it spray all over him. If he does happen to notice, he's not showing.

"Alright, I'll take it from here," I say.

I'm pretty sure that with all the things going on—volunteering in place of her sister in the Hunger Games, _me_ volunteering for the Hunger Games for a reason she doesn't know of, knowing that _this_ guy is gonna be our mentor, advisor and sponsor line-upper—the last thing she might want to do is strip the guy down and take him a shower.

"I could send one of the Caretakers to help-" she begins.

"No," I say firmly. I won't accept help, especially from the Capitol. "I'm fine. I don't want their _help_."

I can't stand the sight of those people but I didn't mean to sound so rude or cold. But it's too late. She's gone into her room.

I strip Haymitch down and try my best to clean him up. Luckily, only a bit of vomit seeped through his clothes and I don't have much to clean up. So, lucky me.

After I'm somewhat done, I dress him in comfortable clothes and put him on the bed. I don't bother to tuck him in or anything. I hardly think he'll notice.

I walk to my room, glancing at Katniss' only once and then walking over to mine. I open the door and close it quietly, I look into my room and throw myself on the bed, laying back and looking at the ceiling. I wonder how mom and Tyson are right now.

Since Tyson must feel pretty upset, he's probably gonna be sleeping in mom's bed, trying to feel comforted with mom's presence if mine's gone. Mom will probably try to be all cuddly with him since he's only thirteen but Tyson will try to seem older so he avoids her arms and just sleeps beside her, then give in eventually. I'm not sure what they'll think about but it'll probably be something that won't have to do with me being in the Hunger Games. They'll try to stay happy and keep things normal, even when they watch the TV and see me there with the most possible chance of me getting killed, especially since I have big competition. The boy from District 2 and intimidating guy from 11 seem to be dangerous. I'll try to remember to keep my distance from them.

A tear strays from my eye and soon more come. I cry soundlessly, deciding that right now might as well be the best time. No one's around, it's dark and Effie won't come in here to get me up because dinner already passed and morning has yet to come. I don't bother to put any sleeping clothes on. I just lay there in the clothes that are soggy from when I bathed Haymitch. Soon, I make the rocking of the train and the silence that besets me my own little lullaby and I fall deep into sleep.

I fall deeper into oblivion until Effie's voice rings through the fog in my head. I crack my eyes open and look at the doorway, listening to Effie knock on the door and call me. "Up, up, up! It's going to be a _big_ day today, so up!" she squeals.

I look at the window and see that morning is slowly creeping up. The sun slowly shades the sky in purple-pink and orange hues. I blink, feeling the dried tears on the sides of my eyes. I slowly rise from the bed and drag myself to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower. The warm water pours down on me and I just stand there, letting the water slowly wear away the knots on my back and thoughts in my head, leaving me only one. _What am I gonna do?_

I step out of the shower and I dry myself off, picking out a turquoise button down shirt and black pants. I walk out and sit down on a chair as Haymitch walks into the room, his face puffy and red. I'm not surprised that yesterday's indulgences led to this.

I look at the breakfast and serve myself. No matter how little we eat and how hungry I am, I just play with the food, feeling drained. Effie looks at my state and I see a small look of pity. I clench my teeth. I don't need her pity. I especially don't need a Capitol person's pity. I don't glance at her as she gets up, leaving and pouring herself something in a mug. Instead of going back down to her seat, she comes to me and sets it down next to my plate and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Here you go," she says. She pats my back. I look into the mug, seeing a brown, steaming liquid. At first I think that it's coffee but it's too thick and the color's too light.

"What is it?" I ask, picking up a spoon and stirring it up. When I stir, it becomes even lighter.

"Hot chocolate," she explains, going and sitting in her seat. "It's my favorite. Other than coffee."

I lift up the mug with the handle and smell. Hot chocolate, I think. I would have never been able to get chocolate back at District 12. It's far too expensive and extremely rare. If we could hardly get sugar, a delicacy such as chocolate is all but extinct. I smell it and the sweet aroma makes my mouth water. I bring it up to my lips and sweet flavor burst through my mouth. My eyebrows raise, finding that it's amazing. I take another careful sip before swallowing, trying to get my throat used to such a hot beverage.

I soon drain the cup before even eating the food in front of me. Effie serves me another mug and hands me a roll of warm bread. I only come across bread like this about once every two months, and that's when I get lucky so I immediately bring it up to my mouth. Before I could bite, Effie stops me. She takes the roll away and rips a piece off. She dips it in the hot chocolate and gives it to me. I raise a brow at her.

"What? It's good," she tells me.

I take it from her hand, popping it in my mouth and finding that it does taste good. I nod a thanks to her and she smiles, walking back to her seat as if she helped save a life.

"Could you get one for Katniss?" I ask.

Effie orders one of the Avoxes to get her a quick mug of one and a steaming cup of hot chocolate is in the chair next to me. I drink the hot chocolate and then go for the food, slowly eating and trying to act natural since Effie will bug me if I look depressed. Then Katniss comes in. She's wearing the same thing she was yesterday, a green shirt with black pants, and she sits down. The second she slides in her seat, they bring a platter with the same food I have. She eyes the hot chocolate mug next to her orange juice and coffee and I draw my cup away from my mouth for a few seconds.

"It's called hot chocolate," I explain. "It's amazing with a bread roll."

She cautiously sips it and, judging by the way she drains the whole cup with a satisfied smile, she likes it. She eats like she'll never see food again and I used to eat like that, but since last night, I don't feel that I have the stomach for it right now. I just move the food around the plate and sip on my hot chocolate. I eye Haymitch thin his cranberry juice, as Effie called it, with spirits that smell so strong that even I knew what it was before thinking it was water. As he sets it down on the table, I'm starting to wonder how on earth he won the Games.

I glare at him downing it, thinking that Katniss and I might just have a better chance to make it in the Hunger Games without him. I set my mug down and stare at him intently.

"So, you're the one who's gonna get us sponsors and advise us?" I ask, knitting my fingers together.

Haymitch nods. "Yeah. I got some advice for you right now. Stay alive and don't die."

I could feel my nostrils flare and I narrow my eyes at him. Katniss does the same. I guess he's not on her good side either. I see Effie gulp from the other end of the table.

"Haha," Katniss says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe you should give us some advice we don't _know_," I say.

"Maybe you should learn not to piss off your mentor," he replies, bringing the cup to his lips.

"Maybe you should learn that _this,_" I snap, slapping the cup of spirits out of his hand, "doesn't make it any better!"

He stays still and stiff, his jaw tightening and narrowing his eyes at me. He suddenly aims to punch me but I quickly block his punch and hold his arm in place, giving him one of my own. He faces away from me, spitting on the ground and he turns back to me, giving me a surprise sucker-punch. His punch is actually powerful enough to make me loosen my grip and tumble over my chair, making me land on the floor. Maybe _that's_ how he won the Games.

He starts to reach for the bottle of spirits on the table but Katniss immediately sits up, driving a knife between his hand and the bottle, barely missing his fingers. He looks at both of us. As his gaze turns to me, I glare at him. He sits back in his chair, a small smirk showing on his face.

"What's this?" he says. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I stand up, massaging my jaw. I actually think this will bruise. I reach for some ice from the fruit tureen but Haymitch makes a noise that stops me.

"No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with one of the tributes before you've even made it to the arena," he says.

I narrow my eyes. "That's against the rules. I'd rather die in the arena than get killed for 'mixing up with one of the tributes'."

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better," he says. Haymitch turns to Katniss. "Can you hit anything else with the knife other than the table?"

I'm not sure if she's ever hunted with a knife before. All I've ever seen her hunt with is the bow and arrow but judging by the accuracy of the knife that almost sliced Haymitch's fingers off, I could guess that she's had another hidden talent.

She yanks the knife out of the table and throws it across the room, not only hitting the wall but getting it right in between the wooden panels. My eyebrows shoot up. Oh, well, maybe she doesn't even need my protection. But it's better safe than sorry. Haymitch looks at us both.

"Stand over there. Both of you," he says, nodding over to the middle of the room. I slowly walk over there, the red mark on my cheek throbbing. He circles us, inspecting us like a butcher does to the rabbits I get for him. He pokes at my biceps and chest. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get a hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

I don't question this. Usually, the Districts that get more sponsors have attractive tributes, or at least some that aren't, what Capitol people call, ugly. Haymitch settles in front of us.

"Alright, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll be sober enough to help you," he says. "But you have to do exactly as I say."

I could think of a million reasons not to do exactly as he says but what other choice do we have? We can't just say no and have a drunk advisor and mentor throughout the whole Games. I bitterly nod.

"Alright," I breathe.

"So, help us," Katniss says. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone—"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put into the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist," Haymitch says, leaning back in his chair.

"But—" Katniss begins.

"No buts. Don't resist," Haymitch repeats, taking the bottle of liquor and leaving the room. Once he leaves the room, the lights go dark and there are dwindling lights outside. It looks as if it's already gone dark outside but judging by the absolute darkness, we're most likely going through a tunnel. Katniss and I stay in silence as the tunnel stretches on and on. I think of the thick rock from the mountain separating me from the open and I start to feel twitchy. I was never one for tight spaces or being encased. I'm always out in the open and, since I can't stay in one spot for long, I prefer the open to being encased.

Suddenly, as if there was a light switch, the light returns, taking a weight off my shoulder of being in the tunnel and I dash to the window, Katniss by my side. I finally see the grand, ruling city of Panem, the Capitol with my own eyes. The cameras haven't deceived us about its appearance but it's magnificence and glimmers can only be seen by the human eye. The streets are flooded with gleaming cars and people that remind me of the extinct birds called parakeet and peacocks. Their colors are almost blinding to the eyes and unnaturally bright. They remind me of the candies that my mom once brought as a special treat once when she wasn't ill. Bright and colorful they were, just like these people. They swarm the station, their blindingly white teeth flashing as they grin at us, waving and screaming. My stomach lurches, sickened at these people's excitement of the Games. How could they enjoy watching twenty-four teenagers fight to the death in an arena?

Katniss backs away from the window, looking sickened. Who can blame her? I stay there, staring blankly at them, looking at them so excited to see us die. I remember that these are the people that might be giving us gifts, that might just help Katniss and I survive. I won't be helping Katniss by standing here and getting on their bad side. Even if she doesn't get gifts from some sponsors, I would give her mine if I have enough. I strain a smile, waving at the insane people outside that point at us excitedly. I see Katniss in my peripheral vision, horrified.

"One of them might be rich," I say, glancing at her, the strained smile on my face. "It won't help to just glare at them. Might as well get as much sponsors right now."

She looks doubtful, cautiously looking at me. I'm not sure what goes through her mind but I still smile and wave. I'm not sure if Katniss is the type of person that likes to get on people's good side. If she isn't, I'll step up and get us some. Better some than none.

I hiss in pain, clenching my teeth and spitting out curses as the cloth rips off the hair of my chest. Dear god, this is torture. First the practically scrape off a layer of my skin in what they call a "bath" and now rip my body hair from my body? The Capitol people are such neat-freaks!

"I apologize!" Generus, a plump man with orange hair with designs dyed on and stripes on his body, says, his Capitol accent almost making me feel better. The Capitol accent can make just about anything funnier, even ripping the hairs off my skin. "You District 12-ers really should try to get less hairy."

I narrow my eyes at his comment but who can blame him? He's lived like this since birth, it's not his fault that he thinks that everyone in the world has time to glamour up and dress for the heck of it. I've had to hunt and not starve and help my mom out with the work. Then I was the boss of the house.

"Is he ready?" Cecile, a woman with powder-pink skin and engraved rhinestones along her eyebrows and jaw line, asks. Generus shakes his head.

"Almost," he says, looking at me and giving me a look that says 'this is the last one'. I sigh in relief, no more uprooting hair. He rips it off and I bite my tongue, drawing blood. "Grease him down."

Cecile and Zarios, another member of the prep team with baby-blue hair and slitted eyes that are reptilic, grab some lotion and spread it over my skin, calming down the stinging and tingling nerves from all the waxing.

They all look me over and squeal.

"Perfect!" Cecile gasps, clapping her hands and jumping.

"Now you look something close to an actual person!" Generus muses.

I bite my tongue again to keep from snapping at these people. They're such ignorant idiots. I'm not sure what they know about District 12 but I'm betting they don't know much. I just loathe them.

"Now you're ready to meet Portia!" Zarios exclaims, seeming excited.

They scurry out of the room, leaving me completely naked with my hand itching to reach over and cover myself with the robe about a foot away from my reach. It's so despicable, the way that these Capitol people live. While District 12 and probably 11 try to survive, trying to make sure that we don't starve or fall ill, they live here, having full meals, surgically altering themselves, engraving themselves with rhinestones and just waiting for the next batch of tributes to roll in and kill each other for their entertainment. It's all sick and twisted to me, how they are. I can't imagine how much worse they can get.

A woman with intertwined braids in her white hair struts into the room in her eight inch heels and looking at me with bright purple eyes. The purple is the only thing of color in her. Everything else is white with few black linings. Even her skin is a sickly, pale white. She smiles at me, stepping toward me and taking out a hand to shake.

"Hello," she greets. "I assume that you're Percy Jackson. I'm Portia, your stylist."

I nod cautiously, trying not to snicker at her high pitched, Capitol-accented voice. "I believe so."

She giggles, circling me and looking me up and down. My hand twitches to cover the certain spot between my legs but I resist. She nods, clapping her hands, satisfied.

"Good, I have something to work with. Get your robe back on and we'll talk," she says, gesturing me to put the robe on and walks into a separate room. I don't hesitate to put my robe on and follow her. The room has three blank walls with one wall completely glass, showing an amazing view of the Capitol. I take a seat on white couches and we both look at each other.

"Hungry?" she asks in her high pitched voice.

She pushes a button and the floor splits open, a table rising up with exotic and elegant cuisine. It's fish marinated in a red liquid with mandarins, oranges and lemons surrounding it. It has a side of mixed, broiled vegetables and potatoes mixed with rosemary and other spices. The food looks appetizing and my mouth waters at the mere sight. Since I haven't eaten this morning, having food within arm's reach is incredible but I still find it incredibly... despicable for some reason. I don't know. The concept unsettles me.

"No, not really," I mumble.

"Oh well," Portia says. "Now, let's talk about the costumes."

I look up at her, seeing her propping her head up with her hand and staring at me intently, a grin on her face.

"What?" I ask.

"Cinna, your partner's stylist, and I were thinking that you and Katniss should have identical outfits," she explains.

I look at her. "So, what'll we be?"

She smirks. "As you know, each District has to wear something that reflects what each District majors in."

It's my turn to smirk. "So, we're gonna be coal miners?"

She shakes her head in distaste. "No, no, no. Cinna and I have agreed that coalminers have been used _far_ too much. It gets a bit boring after a while. We want to make you _unforgettable_." She says.

I swallow, remembering this one time when they had these two tributes butt-naked and cloaked in coal dust. It didn't do us any favor, unless we wanted to be the laughing-stock of the districts. They sure were unforgettable. I hope I don't end up nude like those two.

"This time, we decided to concentrate on the coal."

I roll my eyes. I'll most likely end up like them.

"Think about it," Portia says, clearly catching onto my dullness on the approach. "What does coal make?"

I look at her, my brows furrowed.

"Have you, by any chance, a fear of fire?" she asks.

A couple hours later, I'm in a tight, black leather suit with laced up boots and a flowing cape. Portia decided that I would look cute if I kept my hair naturally messy and in my face. Apparently, I look more attractive that way. As we walk there, Portia explains how it'll all go down.

"We'll be lighting you up in a synthetic fire that Cinna and I have both created. It's made purely for show, not for cooking or heating so there's no need for it to emit heat," she says. "You'll be perfectly safe."

_As if,_ I think. I'll probably be fried before we even make it to the city's center. The prep team leads me to the chariots and I see Katniss in her own unitard with knee-high lace-up boots and a cape just like mine. My stylists go over and squeal, talking and socializing and congratulating Cinna, a surprisingly normal-looking man. He doesn't look as congratulatory as you'd expect but, in the Capitol, I _don't_ know what to expect so I brush it off.

We're escorted to the bottom of the Remake Center, which is practically just a stable. I see other pairs of tributes be whisked away and loaded to their chariots as the opening ceremony is about to start. The chariots are led with four horses and I gaze at their beauty, wanting to get a closer look but decide not to. Then I see our horses. They're sleek, black and as we pass them to get to our chariot, I see their eyes and see a somewhat tamed soul. I wonder how the horses have become so tamed. My mom used to tell me stories about how animals used to be wild and free, how they used to run across the land we were in today, in the Meadow that we were forbidden to go to, and the fastest and most free runner was the horse. Now that I see them right now, I doubt that they ever did run.

Cinna and Portia take us to the chariot, practically arrange our body position for the cameras and they leave us, consulting each other.

"What do you think?" Katniss asks, turning to me. "About the fire?"

"I bet we won't make it half way," I murmur.

"Probably not even _half_ of that," she adds, naming her own discomfort.

"So, nice meeting you Katniss Everdeen," I say.

"I'll rip yours off if you rip mine," she states.

"Or we could do that," I say, looking over to the stylists. "Hey, I know we made a deal with Haymitch to not resist this but I'm pretty sure that this should be in the terms and conditions."

"Where is he anyways?" Katniss wonders aloud.

"I don't know. Maybe going a day trying to sober up was too much for the guy," I say.

Suddenly we both laugh. I guess the thought of being barbecued just makes about _anyone_ go a bit nuts, huh? Then the opening music begins. My heart races and I could feel the color drain from my face. Dear God, why did I ever volunteer?

I could see it happening now, the music starts, we pass through and go into the Training Center which will be our confined prison until the Games.

Then the door opens, revealing a street with a crowd on either side, excitement buzzing through their whole being. Then District 1's chariot goes and I hear the usual screeching and roaring of the crowd. District 1 is usually a favorite. Then goes 2, 3 and 4 and they're all going so quickly that it's come to us already. District 11's chariot begins to go and Cinna approaches us with a lighted torch. "Here we go then," he says. Before any of us could react, he lights our capes on fire. I remember the pain of being burned one time when I was small and having to reach passed mom's boiling pot of soup to get a piece of stale bread but then one of the flames strayed and burned my arm. I prepare for that same pain, only a million times worse but…nothing comes. Instead, there's a light, tingly sensation settling where the fire should be. Cinna goes on ahead to light our head pieces and sighs. "It works," he says. He tucks a hand under Katniss' chin. "Remember. Heads high. Smile. They're going to love you!"

Cinna jumps off and suddenly turns around, shouting something at us but the music drowns him out. Looks like he's got a last minute idea.

He gestures to his hand and holds both of his together.

"What's he saying?" Katniss asks.

I turn to her and see that she looks completely dazzling with the radiating light of the fire. I've never seen anything more beautiful. But I ignore that and open my mouth.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," I say. I grab her right hand before she can protest and look at Cinna, raising my brows in question. He smiles, nodding and giving us a thumbs' up. Then our chariot comes out.

There are first alarmed screams and horrified faces in the crowd but when they realize we're alright, they scream in excitement and cheers. "District 12!" is being shouted out throughout the crowd, drawing other's attention that are more ahead, some too far to see us.

I freeze, pure panic overriding my thinking process. What do I do? What do I do?! Then I remember Cinna's words and let out a breath. I lift my head high and smile, looking at the crowd, waving, trying my best not to pass out under the screeches and number of people.

I glance at Katniss and see her…smiling. She looks…happy and…excited. I can't help but stare at her like that, occasionally going back and waving and smiling at the crowd. Then she actually blows a few kisses into the crowd and some of the men and boys go wild, trying to catch her kiss. People suddenly start throwing us flowers and Katniss manages to catch one and she sniffs it. She blows a kiss in the direction I'm pretty sure it came from. People try to catch her kiss and make it land on their cheek or actually bring the kiss to their lips. Pretty disturbing but…they're Capitol people.

"Katniss! Katniss!" I could hear the crowd cheering her name.

I can't help but think of her beauty at this very moment. Right now, she's glowing under the attention, the fire trailing behind her illuminates her face in the dusky light and it only makes her the more beautiful. I, on the other hand, melt under the attention. As she gets stronger, I get weaker. With all this attention, I can't stand it. It's a miracle that I'm barely standing straight and smiling.

"Look who's getting all the attention," I tell Katniss and this only makes her laugh and the crowd cheers more. Oh, I guess I helped her get more.

This is perfect, just what she needs, sponsors. I don't really care about myself. My top priority is Katniss right now and, despite not being as good as she is with people right now, I think I scored a few sponsors for myself. I can only imagine how much she got. If we're lucky, we'd probably scored a bit of rich folks.

Until we reach the City's Circle, I realize that I can't feel my hand anymore. Katniss begins to loosen her grip but then I feel the pressure and panic I feel it take a toll. If she lets go, I'm pretty sure I'll fall out of this chariot.

"No, don't let go," I tell her through clenched teeth, alarmed. "I'm about to pass out right now. It's a miracle I'm still up."

She shrugs. "Okay," she says.

We circle around and I notice that the cameras are still on our chariot. On the balcony above us, the President, President Snow, comes out, giving the usual welcoming ceremony speech. Usually, when he gave the speech, the cameras would cut us off and turn to him but District 12 is getting an unfair amount of airtime. Then the anthem plays and we're being whisked off to the Training Center.

As we get off, I stay quiet for a while. It's until Katniss nudges me do I do something. I laugh, so nervously that I notice that I sound a bit disoriented.

"Are you okay?" Katniss asks.

"I'm doing horrible. That was absolutely horrifying," I say, still laughing. She looks at me, an eyebrow raised. I calm down, letting out a deep breath. I look around. Most Districts are giving us dirty looks, some sneers here and a frown there. "Thanks for holding onto me. I almost passed out."

Katniss smiles. "Well, good thing you didn't. I don't think anyone noticed, anyways."

"Of course not. They practically kept the camera on you, little Miss. Girl on Fire," I say, nudging her arm. "Forget make-up, flames fit you perfectly," I say with a smile on my face.

She considers this a moment and smiles back, nodding. "I'll try."

The Training Center has a tower designed exclusively for each tribute and the teams. Our only "home" until the Games. Effie gushes over how much of an affect we had at the opening ceremonies so much she's all over the place. Apparently, we're the only tributes that have actually been bothered to be paid attention to. She's been running around, trying to win us some sponsors.

"I've been mysterious, though," she says, squinting her eyes. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies. But I've done my best with what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for her sister. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district."

My blood boils but I bite my tongue to keep from saying a word to the lady that is preparing us to enter an arena where we have to fight to the death.

"Hm, Haymitch isn't here yet," I say instead. "I bet he's passed out in his bath tub," I say.

"I say the ground next to his bed," Katniss says, smirking.

Effie rolls her eyes, ignoring our comments. "Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being form the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal, it turns to pearls!'" She says it so confidently and with such joy that the only way that Katniss and I could respond is by complimenting her genius, even though what she said isn't what happens to coals. Pearls come from mollusks. I think that coal turns into a diamond or something. I don't even think that _that's_ right.

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that," she says. "But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if I have to."

I smirk and then go to my room. It's humungous. It's bigger than my own home with mom and Tyson living inside. The bathroom is bigger than any room in the house. Its all-automatic machines are gonna make me a bit rusty with throwing daggers but I don't care. I've been hunting for my family for four years. Don't I deserve a bit of luxury. In the shower, I barely have to press buttons to put the temperature, soaps and oils in the shower however I want. I take a nice, long shower. I step out and am startled by an all-body blow-dryer. There's also another blow-dryer box for my hair that untangles it and dries it, I practically only massages myself in the shower considering that the shower did the rest for me.

I jump on the plush-pillowed bed and look around, looking around my quarters. I struggle to program clothes out of the closet and zoom in and out on things in the windows that show the city. I barely whisper what I want to eat from a mouthpiece on the wall and it comes to me within minutes. I finish a piece of salted, dried meat and a bit of cheese bread when I hear Effie knocking on my door, calling me for dinner. I stuff the rest of the cheese bread into my mouth and I walk into the dining room.

I go out to see Cinna and Portia standing in a balcony and I decide to join them. Portia sees me and squeals, smiling and tiptoeing over to me, her heels not letting her take normal strides.

"Oh, Percy! Hello!" she says, hugging me.

I awkwardly hug her back. Katniss may be pretty close to her stylist but I still keep mine at a comfortable distance in my head, which is about three continents away.

"Hi," I say dryly.

Cinna wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Hello, Percy!"

"Hi," I respond.

As we keep the conversation minimal and they let me admire the city in the balcony in peace, I decide not to be as bitter and unsocial as I can be toward them. I was never a people's person.

Then Katniss comes out with Effie and we all go to the dining room, settling in the seats as we're served the soup. A quiet kid offers us all wine and I decline his offer. Katniss doesn't pass on it though.

I nudge her and she looks at me.

"I advise you not finish the whole thing. You never know what it can make you do," I say because I remember this one time when I tried it out when dad had enough money to buy it for a formal event he had. Gave me a headache and I kept blurting out unnecessary things that they didn't have to know and things against the Capitol. So I decided that from then on, never again.

She shrugs, taking a light sip with a look on her face that she will try to listen to my advice.

I go back to my soup. Then Haymitch walks in, not stumbling or showing any signs that he's been driking. My eyes widen as I stare at him in my peripheral vision, seeing that he's actually well-groomed and…doesn't reek of alcoholic fumes. Maybe he _is_ pulling it together for us. But he doesn't decline the offer of wine. Thank God that he doesn't thin it with the liquor.

Haymitch and Effie scrutinize each other less than usual and they manage to make small talk with Cinna and Portia. I look over to Katniss to notice that she's going through the first stage, which is just getting a lightly dazed look in their eyes.

She brings the cup back up to her lips and then I reach out and bring it down to the table. She glowers at me. I'm pretty sure it's not because she liked it, but because I just simply _did_ that. I give her a look of _Trust me_ and she sighs, changing to water instead.

As we finish the course, the Avoxes take the food away and a girl comes to lay a plate holding a gigantic, beautiful cake on the table. She lights the candles and it blazes up, the flames lingering around the edges until they die out.

"Whoa!" both Katniss and I say. I've never seen anything like that before, and the cake is still in perfect shape! No burns or anything.

"What makes it burn? Is it alcohol?" Katniss asks. "That's the last thing I want—hey, I kno—" she begins but then bites her tongue. I snap my head to her, already knowing what she was about to say even when the grown-ups only have their suspicions. "Oh, wait. Never mind. It's the wine," Katniss says, passively.

The grown-ups relax some before returning to their conversation. As we eat the cake, I turn to her, giving her a questioning look before she gives me one of _You don't want to know._

Then we watch the replay of the opening ceremonies in the sitting room. I don't mean to brag but the other tributes don't stand a chance against us. Even though I've already seen Katniss in her fiery costume, my breath can't help but hitch at the sight of her in the flames. The rest also seem to have that problem.

"Who's idea was the hand-holding?" Haymitch asks.

"Cinna's," Portia says.

"Just the perfect touch of rebellion," Haymitch says. "Very nice."

I stiffen a moment. Rebellion? As I observe the other tributes, they look nice standing next to each other but they're not together, not like Katniss and I were. They simply co-exist. Just as it should be. In the Games, you can't have friends or teams because only one comes out. Only one survives. If there ever were teams, I feel for the ones that bonded and were left standing with only themselves to go against. It just didn't work out that way in the Games.

"Tomorrow morning is your first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch tells us. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! If I updated this story, then I updated my other one too so please just at least sneak a peek. And for other people that comment and stuff I just want to thank you so much! So much support, so much support. I love you all, my pretties! See ya.**

**Unnecessary Disclaimer: I own nothing**

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**Katniss**

Percy and I walk side by side down the corridor to our rooms. As we approach my room, he leans on wall next to the door, implying that I pay attention to him. "So, I don't mean to bug you but…what was that 'never mind' that was caused by the wine?"

He's asking for an explanation. And I'm tempted to give him one. But what business is this to him? He doesn't know me. The most I've seen of him was barely yesterday, him hitting taking down that stag, trading at the Hob and volunteering to take Peeta's place in the Games. I might even prefer Peeta to him but something about this boy just somehow makes me trust him without hesitating. Besides, I want to share the story about the girl. I've kept it bottles up inside me for years and have had no one to tell it to. And here comes this boy, asking for the story. He might help me figure out her story. Gale would've been my first choice, but it's unlikely that I'll ever see Gale again. I try to think of any way that telling Percy this story would give him any advantage over me, but I can't come up with one. Maybe sharing a confidence with him will make him believe I see him as a friend.

Besides, the idea of the girl with her maimed tongue frightens me. She has reminded me why I'm here. Not to model flashy clothing and eat delicious cuisine, but to die a violent, gory death while the people of the Capitol urge my killer to finish the job.

To tell or not to tell? My brain has a thin fog in my head that lets me think a bit faster than it would be if I drank more wine, but it still makes it slow. I stare down the corridor as if the decision lies there, in the open.

Percy nods, almost as if picking up my reluctance. "Have you been on roof yet?" I shake my head. "Cinna took me there. It has a pretty good view of the city."

I translate this into "No one will overhear us talking" in my head. There's a small dome-shaped room with a door on the outside. As we step into the cool, windy evening air, I catch my breath at the view. The whole city twinkles like a vast field of fireflies. These people are lucky to have electricity 24/7. Back at District 12, we only have it a few hours a day. Usually when it gets dark, we spend it in the candle light. The only guarantee for power is the days of the Hunger Games or an important, mandatory message from the government.

I hear Percy's breath hitch also, and I turn to him.

"I thought you said it would be like this," I say.

"Well, I just took a shot at the dark. I haven't been here, either," he says.

That makes me wonder whether I should trust him or not. He lied about knowing what this would look like, what else would he lie about? But then again, it was to get away from the prying eyes of the possible cameras downstairs. But it's too much for me to think about with my foggy mind, so I decide to think about it later.

"Aren't they worried about us jumping out or something?" Percy asks, leaning against the railing, looking down. "Probably some electric field or something." He holds it is hand there's a sharp zap and Percy jerks back, wincing. He moves his hand, fisting it and unfisting it. "Yeah. That's an electric field."

"Always worried about our safety," I say. I wonder if we're even supposed to be here so late and alone. I've never seen any other tributes on the Training Center roof before. But that doesn't mean we're not being taped. "Do you think they're watching us now?"

"I'm not sure," he says. "But I'm not putting money on it."

We both just stare at the view for a couple minutes, watching the twinkling lights and the shiny cars drive by, the occasional shout here and there. Then Percy turns to me expectantly, obviously looking for an explanation.

I examine a small, light green car, watching the glare of the lights hitting it. "I have to hunt," I explain. "I have to hunt for my family and trade at the Hob."

"Yeah, I know," he says simply.

I turn to him, my expression dumbfounded. "You know?"

He swallows, looking like he just said something that he regretted but he just still looks out into the city, avoiding my gaze. "Yes, I know."

My eyes narrow. "How?"

"You see, I, myself, hunt. I saw you one time with that friend of yours, Gale," he says. Well, I'm not surprised. I almost say "I know" also, but bite my tongue to keep from saying it.

"Well, we were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game," I whisper. "Suddenly, all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it," I say.

For a moment I'm silent, remembering how the sight of the pair, clearly not from District 12, fleeing through the woods immobilized us. Later, we wondered if we could have helped them escape. Perhaps we might have. Concealed them. If we'd moved quickly. Gale and I were taken by surprise, yes, but we're both hunters. We know how animals look at bay. We knew the pair was in trouble as soon as we saw them. But we only watched.

"The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere," I continue to Percy. "I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up fast, so fast like the elevator. They shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attacked to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We hear the girl scream once, the boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing happened."

"Did they see you hiding?" Percy asks.

"I don't know. We were under a shelf of rock," I reply. But I know. There was a moment, after the birdcall, but before the hovercraft, where the girl had seen us. She'd locked eyes with me and called out for help. But neither Gale or I had responded.

"Are you cold?" Percy asks. "You're shivering."

The wind and the story have blown all the warmth from my body. I wonder if the girl's scream had been her last.

Percy leans on the railing next to me and wraps a warm arm around me. "I would offer you a jacket, but I don't have one. I hope you don't mind." I shake my head, too haunted by the memory to speak. "Were they from here?"

I nod. They had that Capitol look about them.

"Where do you think they were going?" he asks, looking at the city.

"I don't know," I respond. District 12 is pretty much the end of the line. Beyond us there's only wilderness. Unless they wanted to make a living in the ruins of District 13 that still smolder with toxic bombs, they were heading the right direction. "Why would they leave here?" Haymitch called Avoxes traitors. Against what? It could only be the Capitol. But they had everything here, not cause to rebel.

"I wouldn't want to live here for the rest of my life either," Percy mutters, but then looks around nervously. "I mean, who doesn't want to go home. I miss my family. The food _is_ pretty good though."

A pretty good cover-up. If that's all you'd heard, it'd sound like the words of a scared tribute, not someone contemplating the unquestionable goodness of the Capitol.

"It's starting to get cold. We should go inside," he says suddenly, taking his arm from my shoulder. Inside the dome, it's warm and bright. As we walk, his tone is conversational. "So, your sister. You love her a lot, don't you?"

The thought of Prim brings a smile to my face, the thought of her being safe brings warmth to my heart. Then I remember the promise that I made to her. To try my best. My blood runs cold. I can't try my best if I'm here, being friends with this boy. In the Games, I would hesitate to kill him. What would keep him from killing me? One small mistake with this boy, the slightest hesitation if we do come across each other, and he could already have a knife at my throat. I have to get my head out of the cloud with this ludicrous friendship that he's playing with me. With the false security he brings me. I can't let him make me weak.

Thinking that two can play at his game, I respond. "Yes, I do. And I guess that you love your brother."

His expression falls, a small look of sadness settling across his face. "Yes, I do."

I turn to him, we're almost at my room. If I do tick him off right now, I could walk there myself. "Then, why did you do it?"

He looks at me, already knowing what I mean to say. "It's for personal reasons."

"Reasons that would make you leave your brother?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He runs a hand through his hair. "Listen, let's save this for when I have it sorted out. The volunteering was something impulsive that happened."

I look at him, seeing that this was a lie. The reason he volunteered was another reason altogether. The personal reason statement was not a lie, but the rest was. For all I know, he's been wanting to kill me for a long time, the reason unknown to me. And when he saw me volunteer, this was his perfect chance. Unless he plans on coming out victor, his plan would work out fine. And with his skills, he might just have a chance at winning.

We walk to my door I silence and we both stand there a second.

"Well, see you in the morning," I say.

He nods. "See you."

After my slumber gets riddled with nightmares and being assaulted by the shower, I'm in the dining room, gorging myself with food, watching the sun rise and thinking about what my mother and Prim would be doing right now.

Haymitch and Percy come in, bidding me good morning and piling up their plate with food. I am annoyed to see Percy dressed in the same attire that I'm wearing. He doesn't look happy about it but he doesn't resist. At least he doesn't have the pin…wait, he does! How does he have the Mockingjay pin that I have…and it's the _same exact one._ I stare at it, my food momentarily forgotten. Every single detail is congruent to mine, the tips of the wings, the number of feathers visible, the way that one eye is barely bigger than the other. I shake my head. His stylists must've made him one like mine for the whole twin act.

I'm nervous about the training. It's three days, stuck in a training room with all the tributes, practicing our skills. On the last afternoon, we'll each get a chance to perform in private with the Gamemakers. The thought of meeting the other tributes face-to-face makes me queasy. I turn to the roll I have just taken from the basket over and over in my hands, but my appetite is gone.

When Haymitch has finished several platters of stew, he pushes back his plate with a sigh. He takes a flask from his pocket and takes a long pull on it and leans his elbows on the table. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

"Why would you coach us separately?" I ask.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," says Haymitch.

Percy and I look at each other. He already knows about my bow hunting and I already know about his knife-throwing skills. But he doesn't know that I know. But other than that, what's the point? I won't be surprised if he takes me down with one either way.

"I don't have any secret skills," I admit.

"Eh," Percy says. "You can coach us together."

"Fine with me," I agree,

"All right, so give me an idea of what you can do," says Haymitch, looking at Percy. "Other than throwing a punch."

"I could…throw a knife," Percy says. "That's all."

"How accurately?" Haymitch questions.

He shrugs. "So-so."

"Alright then. Katniss, I already know you're handy with a knife," he says.

"Not really," I admit. "But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow."

"And you're good?" Haymitch asks.

I have to think about it. I've been putting food on the table for four years. That's no small task. I'm not as good as my father but he'd had more practice. I've better aim than Gale but I've had more practice. He's a genius with traps and snares. "I'm all right," I say.

Percy snorts. "What are you talking about? You're great." He compliments. He turns to Haymitch. "She gets every single kill right in the eye. The arrow _never_ hits the body. She can even bring down a deer."

My blood boils. It's one thing to know that I hunt. It's another to talk up and take notice on how I do it. "What are you doing?" I ask him, suspiciously.

"You're underestimating yourself. He can't help you if he doesn't know how good you _really_ are," he says.

This rubs me the wrong way. "Well what about you, huh? You take down a stag with only two knives!" I say. He looks shocked that I know this information. I look at Haymitch. "He can take down a stag _and_ carry it himself through the _whole_ forest back to town. Stags weigh over a hundred pounds, that can't be nothing!"

"Oh, so what am I gonna do? Throw stags at people? They'll probably be thanking me for the good meal they'll have with a spear at my head," Percy snaps.

"He can wrestle," I tell Haymitch. "He was in third place in the school competition, and that only because he was at a draw with Peeta. They decided who got second alphabetically."

"And how much times does a tribute go down when another wrestles it to death?" Percy shoots back.

"They always have hand-to-hand combat. Just give you a knife and the other tribute is as good as dead!" I say. "There's no way that someone could take you down. It's probably the reason you're alive!"

He stares at me hard. "And the only reason I'm alive is because of _you_."

I sit there, shell-shocked. What is he talking about? We both stay silent, staring at each other. I still try to figure out what he means but he's giving no hint whatsoever.

"Well, then. Well, well, well. Katniss, there is no guarantee that there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

"I know a few basic snares," I mutter.

"That may be significant in terms of food," he says. "And Percy, she's right. Never underestimate your skills with knives or strength. In the training center there will be knives, and weights and bows and arrows, but don't show how good you are with them. Spend time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at for the private session. Are we clear?" says Haymitch.

Percy and I nod.

"One last thing. In public, I want you to at each other's side every minute," says Haymitch. We begin to protest but he slams his hand down on the table. "Every minute! That's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie in the elevator at ten for training."

I bite my lip and I begin to stand to get back to my room but Percy already stands up, slowly walking to his room in a horrifying manor. It's not the walking that startles me. It's the demeanor. He's fuming and he has that dangerous feel to him right now. It makes me root to my spot in the chair and doesn't make me move until he slams the door of his room.

"Alright now explain to me what all that was about?" Haymitch questions.

I glare at him, standing up and walking to my room, closing the door slowly, even though I want to slam it hard enough to shatter it in its hinges. I sit on the bed. They seriously expected us to be friends? It's all a joke! Percy and I are just too alike. Our relationship—if there ever was one—is just too dysfunctional. We'll butt heads too much, we'll disagree on too much things, we'll most likely end up being the end of each other in the Games. When will they snap out of their illusion of all this being a little paradise and accept that the two of us will be put into a death trap? It's all stupid to me. And we have to stick by each other right ever minute in training. I would be preparing to be bitter adversaries if it weren't for that.

And both of us talking each other up? I don't understand what it was all about. It just rubbed me the wrong way. I never noticed how much he's paid attention to me. I hardly knew him, how would he know that much about me? But then again, I've only actually seen him a day and it turns out that I've noticed him more than I know. The wrestling. The weight he can carry. I've only known him a day but I've seen him a bit more than I wanted to.

I look at the clock and bite my lip. It's almost ten. I have to meet up with Effie soon. I clench my teeth and smooth out my hair. Anger temporarily blocked out by my nervousness about meeting the other tributes, but now I can feel my anxiety rising. I'm practically biting my nails off by the time that I meet up with Percy and Effie. Percy stands tensely in the elevator as we make our descent down. He avoids looking at me but stands by my side.

Even though it's not even ten yet, we're the last to arrive. We all stand in a tense circle, knowing that we're all going to have to kill each other four days from now. They pin our district numbers on our backs and I observe my competition. As I observe, I can't help but notice that Percy and I are the only ones dressed alike. Other than that, half of the tributes are already taller than me. Despite their size, most of them have never been fed properly. You could see it in their hollowed cheeks, the thin frames and faintly visible bones. My resources have given me an edge in the arena and, despite being thin, I stand straight and strong. The only ones that are completely ready for the Games are the Careers. Around them, it's as if the fiery debut Percy and I made has suddenly disintegrated into nothing, as if it never existed and we stand no chance in the arena. When Atala, the head trainer, dismisses us, the Careers predictably head over to the deadliest weapons in the gymnasium, handling them with ease.

As I thank my lucky stars that I'm a good runner, Percy nudges my arm. I dare to look up at him to see his eyes trained elsewhere, his expression dull and expressionless. "Where to?"

I watch the Careers show off their skill, obviously trying to intimidate the rest of us, especially the ones who have barely seen a weapon in their lives.

"Suppose we tie some knots," I say.

"Alright. I was never good with those," he says. We come across a station that is empty of any tributes, and it's clear that it has usually been since the trainer seems pleased to finally have students. Once he sees that I know something about snares, he teaches us a basic trap that leaves a tribute dangling by their leg from a tree. We concentrate on this skill for an hour and Percy struggles with it, even now. I've had to help him with some things, carefully trying to guide his hands to make this simple snare but his impatience and hotheadedness don't let his hands stay still enough for this. Once we both, in a way, master this, we leave to go try and swing a flail. My hand shakes slightly when swinging it but I'm all right with it. Percy, on the other hand, excels at it.

As I try a fighting technique with the flail, Percy says something but I don't quite catch it when I glance at the boy from District 2 nail a dummy in the face with a spear from fifteen yards away.

"What?" I ask.

"I saw you when we were twelve," he repeats. I don't need to ask what he means because I already know he refers to hunting. "You pushed me to the ground."

I glance at him only to see him successfully hit the dummy with the flail. I try to search my memory for ever seeing him when I was twelve, none the less push him to the ground, but I can't find any.

"I followed you into the woods and…that's when I started," he says, making the story short.

I stay there speechless, ceasing to swing the flail and I look at him. Is that how I saved him? By pushing him to the ground and following me through the forest? That sounds more like he saved himself.

"Alright, let's move on," I say, putting the flail down and leaving the station.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! Yeah, I already apologized for being so late in my other fanfic but I'll still apologize for the people that must've thought that I left them hanging. Well, here you go and if I let you at a cliff-hanger, I'm sorry. It just seemed too long.**

**Unneccessary disclaimer: I own nothing**

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**Percy**

I follow her to the starting fires station and we breeze through it. It seems easy enough to set something on fire. If we're lucky though, maybe the Gamemakers will be generous and leave a lighter in one of the packs. It was only until Katniss was thinking about going to the knife-throwing station when I was reluctant.

"I don't know. Haymitch warned us about it and my main hunting tools are the knives," I say reluctantly.

"It's alright. I have pretty decent throwing, I don't need to have training," she admits. Once she walks away, I sigh, grabbing her arm lightly.

"Alright, but I'll pretend that I haven't held a knife in my life," I say. She begins to protest but I put a hand up, signaling her to shut up. "There won't always be bows in the arena, but there are almost always knives. You might as well have another thing to master at in the arena. It'll help a lot if I'm not there."

She makes a face at the last words I say but I'm already at the throwing knives station. She has no choice but to join me. She practices her throws, getting it close to the center and making one every once in a while. I attempt to make myself look mediocre with the knives, either having it hit the target bluntly and have it fall off or just have land lightly far off the center. I have no problem with it until I hear the Careers snickering behind me. I try my best to ignore them but then I see a girl from District 2 approach, sending me a smirk and taking ten of them. She throws them expertly, trying her best to intimidate me and Katniss while I just glare at her. She doesn't know what I'm capable of. What gives her the right to show off?

"Don't worry. You know you're better than them," Katniss whispers reassuringly. What's this? Katniss is trying to reassure me? Wow, she's really trying not to disobey Haymitch.

Then the Careers volume gets too high for me to bear, so I just grab two knives and throw them quickly, aiming right at the line of the center. I switch back to the mediocre throwing. The snickering dies down a bit. Katniss sends me a warning glance and I give her a shrug. I didn't exactly make it to the middle. What's so wrong with not making it to the middle? Once Katniss masters knife throwing, we move from the station and the predicted scolding comes.

"You weren't supposed to show what you could do!" she scolds.

"Don't worry, I just hit the lines. Is that so wrong? Besides, I didn't make it to the center and it's obvious that the assumed I would aim there. So they find me neutral with that stuff. They won't go after me for making it into the line of the target," I reply.

"Alright," she snaps. "But if they decide to kill you first, I'm not helping."

"Alright. That's reassuring," I say. "Now, where to?"

"How about we go to the spear throwing?" she suggests.

I nod. "Sure."

Then we're on the second day. My, how fast the days go when you're sent to your death, huh?

As we throw a couple of spears, I nail a dummy in the face when I see a puff of brown hair in the corner of my eye. I look over to see the little girl Rue watch us as we throw our spears. I raise a brow at her and she hides behind the wall again. I grab another spear, trying to look casual as I open my mouth slightly.

"I don't mean to be a bother but it looks like you got a stalker," I whisper to her. She looks at me and I gesture to Rue's hiding spot with the end of my spear. She looks over, seeing Rue try to spy on us. She purses her lips, looking back at the dummy she's throwing a spear at. "Her name's Rue. I remember."

"What can we do about it?" she asks harshly, reaching for another spear.

I shrug. "Jeez, trying to make a conversation. We haven't talked since I was describing how picky Greasy Sae is with her squirrels. But you already knew so…it wasn't much of a conversation."

Even though Haymitch told us not to go to the stations that we already know, Katniss breezes through the edible-plant station while I seem to be doing great with hand-to-hand combat. And who knew I would be so good with a sword?

When we get back to our level, Haymitch and Effie keep picking at us about what to do and what not to do, about our strategies and about how we look like to the public eye. They're as relentless as birds eating seeds from a bucket. As we walk back to our rooms, I mumble, "You know, I might just like drunken Haymitch more than this one."

Katniss chuckles, actually smiling. But then her smile fades away and she looks at me. "No, don't. Only pretend when there's people around."

I already know she means the friendly façade. I almost feel hurt but then I remember that we really aren't friends. It's just a cover up so that we could get sponsors for the Games. All I need to do is keep Katniss safe and protect her from anything that harms in the Games. Then my debt would be paid off. The debt that she doesn't know exists. While Katniss already enters her room and I enter mine, I slap my palm to my forehead. I can't believe I was that stupid! Telling her about it while training, and in the Capitol's vision none the less. Mentioning about going to the woods, poaching and hunting our own animals, in the Capitol's domain is suicide. If they have cameras there, both Katniss and I can be punished by death! If they don't do it now, then they could do it during the Games. Send the most horrible death to the tributes from District 12 who hunted in the forest outside of the district. They might even go as far as mutations to finish us off. I practically killed any chances for me and Katniss to last a week in the Games.

* * *

We're two districts away from being next in the private session with the Gamemakers. I watch as the girl Annabeth, from 10, heads over to the doors. I watch her the whole time and she glances at me, making eye contact for a few seconds until she passes through the doors. Then it's Thresh, Rue, Nico and Katniss and I. I glance over at the other seeing Nico sit in his seat, deathly calm and his dark hair over his eyes. His face shows no expression. Even though he's only fourteen, the word that passes through my mind when I look at him is '_death_.' After agonizing minutes pass, they call Nico. He hefts himself up and glances at me, his dark eyes piercing but not threatening. Then he's off to the private session. And then it's just 11 and 12.

I look at Katniss, seeing her tense and clenching her jaw. She's anxious and nervous.

"Hey," I whisper to her. She looks at me, her face still indifferent. "It's gonna be okay."

She gives an almost invisible smile, nodding.

After Rue and Thresh go, my number gets called up. I stand, looking over at her. "Good luck," I tell her. She offers a reassuring smile.

"You too," she says.

I pass through the doors and they close behind me, leaving me in the gymnasium with the Gamemakers. I look up at their little private spot where they watch us during the training. They're just standing around, drinking and waiting for the next tribute to roll in. Few actually pay attention.

I immediately walk over to the knife throwing station, flipping them in the air and catching them by the blade and handle each flip. I look up at the Gamemakers, seeing that few are actually looking at me and not interested in gossip and wine. I clear my throat loudly, the sound echoing and becoming louder throughout the room. The rest of the Gamemakers turn their attention to me.

"I'm…Percy Jackson. And…I'm from…District 12," I say awkwardly, nervousness biting at my insides.

I turn to the targets, flipping the daggers from blade to handle to calm me down and let me get a feel of it. Once I feel in the mood, I throw each one with skill, making each target and turn to dummies, running around, doing flips in obstacle courses and throwing one while I jump or swing under an object and throw one, nailing it in one of the dummy's faces. Once I run out of daggers, I luckily end up next to the spears and quickly throw one at a dummy twenty yards away. I do just about anything to keep myself occupied and glance up at them. Few send glances at me, only one barely looking impressed but the rest crowd around the punch bowl.

My blood boils and my eyes wander on a dagger that's lodged between one of the dummy's imaginary eyes. My body unconsciously walks over to it slowly, each stride getting more and more fueled with irritation that they dare to ignore me. The scowl on my face is deep when I tug the daggers from deep within its head. I dare to think about aiming it at the hole of the spoon in the punch bowl when I hear one of them telling me that I'm dismissed.

I nod, snapping out of my stupor and slowly lowering my arm with the dagger. I drop it soundlessly to the soft, padded ground, letting it land delicately on the tip of the blade. I leave the room wordlessly.

Whew, that was close! I go to the elevator and end up in the District 12 level. I let out a breath I barely realize that I was holding and go to my room, falling on my bed and groaning. I can't believe that I was about to do that! It's suicide to try to throw a dagger at the Gamemakers, not to mention doing it two days away from the Hunger Games. It's a good thing that the Gamemaker told me to go away, otherwise I would've had that spoon pinned to the wall behind them.

I let out a long breath that I didn't know I was holding and cover my eyes with my arm. I wait in my room until my nerves dull out and then Effie calls us to dinner.

As I eat my second serving of peas cooked in mushroom sauce, I notice that Katniss isn't eating. She just plays with her food. This girl used to eat like she would never see food again in her life. Something's wrong.

I throw my fork onto the plate, turning to her in my seat.

"What did you do?" I ask.

She looks at me, her expression hard and stony. "Nothing."

I chuckle humorlessly at this, knowing that this is an absolute lie.

"You don't seriously think that I would believe that, do you?" I demand.

"I didn't do anything!" she retorts.

"Bullshit!" I say.

Haymitch slams a fist on the table, startling us both and drawing our attention to him. He pauses a moment, staring at us both in a serious manner.

"Alright, now, Katniss, it's obvious that you did something. Just say it," he says. I smirk, feeling smug. Then he turns his cold stare to me, wiping the smirk off my face. "And don't be so pushy. You won't get anywhere with that attitude at the interview."

I frown, slouching in my seat.

"The interview is tomorrow. How come you haven't taught us anything? I mean, it's not like I'm eager to get scolded at for eating too much, but I expected to have Effie fussing over our appearance," Katniss says.

"Don't change the subject. What did you do?" Haymitch says.

She sighs, leaning back in her seat, looking ashamed. "I…shot an arrow at the Gamemakers."

My blood runs cold, shock settling in my system. She what?

"What?!" I breathe.

"The Gamemakers were all wound up on their stupid pig so I shot a stupid arrow at the stupid apple and stuck it on the stupid wall," Katniss says, her hate showing in her voice.

A chill runs down my spine. What the hell was she thinking?! Does she know what the Gamemakers could do to us? They could send some flesh-eating squirrels to eat us and leave the very last of our meat to the ants that could clean our bones bleached white!

But then again, I was about to throw a dagger at them.

Then Haymitch's laughter echoes in the room. Effie, as usual, tries to back up the Gamemakers but still looks like laughing at the situation herself.

"It's not funny, this is serious," Effie struggles to say without making the slightest smile.

"Yeah, seriously funny," I murmur despite the sheer horror of the consequences. "Ah, don't worry. I don't think that they'll do much of anything bad. Besides, the Hunger Games are two days away. We're dead anyways."

She cringes at what I say but a smirk stays on her lips. I've learned that even making a joke of your certain death can uplift anyone's spirits. After the smirk turns into a smile, she soon eats once again, actually eating.

"So, let's get on with it," Effie says after she wipes her lips with the napkin of hers and stands up, her hands joined at her waist. "The scores are about to be released."

I let out a breath, dreading this moment. The Gamemakers were hardly paying attention. If I wasn't mistaken only about two of them actually observed me. If I'm lucky, they'll give me a six. But then again, the Careers will see me as an easy target to take out and save me for last and I'll surprise them with my skills with the knives. I guess there's a good and bad side to this.

We all sit on the couch in anticipation, Katniss shaking her leg and biting her lip in anxiousness. Haymitch leans forward in his seat, patiently waiting while Effie sits up straight and stiff, like a doll with a wire up her back to keep her that way. I prop my elbows on my knees to support my head. I massage my temples as I see the scores of the other tributes.

Clarisse from 3 got an eleven (Careers, as usual), Rachel from 5 scored a ten, Annabeth and Nico from 10 got the same scores, both a nine, and little Rue got a seven. That's it. I'm officially done for in the Games. If Rue got a seven then I probably got a lucky five.

After they mention Thresh, the announcer says my name slowly, leaving a pause. He's probably looking at the horrible score I got with his mouth a gape that someone could get that horrible of a score. Time stretches like taffy for me right now as I nervously sit there, awaiting for a score.

"Eleven," the announcer says with minor excitement. It's a miracle that he says it with excitement at all. It must be the first time in a long time that District 12 tributes get a high score. But that's not what my mind is on right now.

I got an eleven?! How is that possible? The Gamemakers hardly paid attention, how did I nail an _eleven_?!

_Well if I got an eleven, what would Katniss get?_ I wonder. She must've gotten a thirteen with her skills on the bow and arrow. But then again, the arrow at the pig's apple might tamper with the score.

"Katniss Everdeen," the announcer says.

Katniss stiffens. I look at her tense figure, feeling that I should do something.

I dare to reach out and flatten my palm on the top of her back, rubbing it as comfortingly as I can. I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing but judging by the strange gaze that she sends me, I'm doing more harm than good.

I jerk my hand away, shrugging and giving her a look that says _I was only trying to help._ Her gaze returns to the television. I hold my hands together, praying that she gets a good score.

"Eleven," the announcer says.

Haymitch and Effie suddenly give out a loud cheer, seeming relieved and excited that, not only did Katniss not get disqualified or killed, but she got an _eleven_.

I smile lightly, patting her back and withdrawing my hand before she can look at me at all. I avoid looking at her.

"There must be a mistake. How…how could that happen?" she mutters, looking horribly confused.

"Guess they liked your temper," Haymitch says. "They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."

"Katniss, the girl who was on fire," Cinna says, giving Katniss a hug. "Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

I can't help but notice how acceptable Katniss is to having her stylist touch her, none the less hug her. I barely rubbed her back and she seemed uncomfortable and distant. I'm from her home District and she barely met her stylist a couple days ago. I can't help but feel betrayed even though there's nothing that she has done that suggests that. I hear Katniss say something but I don't quite catch it. I turn to her, raising my brows in question. "What?"

"Congratulations on the eleven. You deserve it," she says politely, but I know that she has no true heart in it. I could just tell that she doesn't have any feeling towards me, nothing going from happiness to hatred; nothing but neutrality.

"You too," I say sincerely.

We all retire to our rooms and I strip down to my boxers and settle under the covers. I lay face up, staring at the ceiling, the city lights shine through the window and make unintelligible shapes on the ceiling. I trace the outlines of them, feeling empty. I wonder about Tyson and mom, wondering if they already ran out of food or if Tyson has already built up enough will to go to the woods himself and begin to train himself to throw the daggers he made me. Or maybe he's secretly selling or trading the things that he's making. For all I know, he might be making a skillet to sell.

I don't know when I fell asleep but I did, because the next thing I knew, loud banging wakes me up.

"Get up, Percy! It's time to coach you," Haymitch's voice says, the only thing that keeps it from making me deaf is the door muffling it the slightest bit.

I lazily stand up, looking at the time. It's almost noon. Why would Haymitch wake me up this late?

I shrug, chasing the thoughts away. _Who cares? I had more time to sleep._

I move toward the door, turning the handle slowly and lean on the door frame as I swing it open. My eyes are at a half-mast as I stare at Haymitch's stony face.

"Did I miss breakfast?" I ask.

He nods. "Yes, you and Katniss are training separately today," he says, turning around and beginning to walk down the hallway and into the living room.

The sentence clears some of the fog of my mind enough to decipher that Katniss isn't going to be with me today. What happened? I thought we were going to be training together.

"What? Why? And why so late?" I ask.

Haymitch turns back to me, looking irritated.

"Because she requested that you did. She already trained and we didn't have much of a progressive coaching," he says.

The first thing that I feel is a pang in my chest, a small, barely noticeable sting. I know this sting. It was when I found out that one of my friends had only been friends with me because of my hunting, asking me for rabbits and me giving them to him without a question because that was what friends did. Betrayal.

_Traitor,_ is the ludicrous thought that passes through my mind at the very moment. It's not like we were friends, we were more at a truce. The best thing we have is a shaky, unsteady bond that has been chipped away by both of our heads butting into each others, but this time I could feel my end of the bridge between us break.

I don't understand why it hurts me so much that she did this but it does. I curse at myself for being so weak. These thoughts aren't going to help her in the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are tomorrow and these thoughts will most likely get Katniss and I killed, and the whole reason for my volunteering for the Hunger Games is to protect her and get my debt paid.

I bite my tongue as I was about to demand why she would do such a thing but doing that shows weakness. I don't know what weakness it would expose or why it would be so bad to expose it to Haymitch, but it's a weakness none the less. I can't let anyone else know.

I nod, trying my best to seem nonchalant but the muscles in my neck are too stiff, too mechanic as I do so.

"Go to the living room right now to begin," Haymitch orders, not seeming to notice my mechanicalness.

"Alright," I murmur, closing the door as I turn around and lean my back on it. I rub my eyes and let out a deep breath as I drop my hands to my sides. I'm not gonna dwell in what Katniss did. Right now…I need to get us some sponsors.

As I sit on the couch with Haymitch, finally finishing my coaching with Effie which, predictably, took hours.

Haymitch is going to teach me what my image to the spectators of the Games would be.

"What would you be? Katniss has no hope in the interviews," Haymitch pauses and my stomach churns at Katniss' name. "But maybe you'd be a bit more compatible with something."

He circles around me, looking from head to toe as if trying to read me. I don't like it. If people read me, they know my life. If they know my life, the know me. If they know me, they know my weaknesses. I _don't_ want anyone to know my weaknesses.

"How about charming? Even though you don't seem the charming type around me, what about around other people?" he says, sitting down on the sofa in front of me. I take a seat in the one that stands next to me and look at him. I raise a brow, the question of him being serious written all over the very glance.

"Ah, we haven't tried it yet. As far as I can tell, the Capitol people _love_ charming, a lot. You haven't exactly tried your hand at it, maybe you're good," Haymitch says.

He tries to give me tips to let me take a whack at "charming". It's not working out. Apparently, I'm not arrogant but I'm not modest either. So that crosses out "cocky" or "charming".

Then he asks me questions about home, about what my life was like back at District 12, telling me to respond as I would if he were Caesar Flickerman. By the fifth question, which was "What would you be doing right now if you weren't participating in the Games?" I was frustrated with the questions that I responded "Well, Caesar, I would be out _hunting_ for food while your lazy asses sit around, dressing up for show and press a button for food to be served."

Then Haymitch soon resorted that I would be a tougher challenge, saying that I might just be as difficult as Katniss. Maybe more.

"How about quirky or bad boy? Does any of them catch your attention?" he asks.

"Quirky sounds too happy. Bad boy, well to put it simply, makes me sound like a jackass," I say, shrugging.

"Alright, how about aloof? You seem cold enough, certainly distant enough," he says.

I shrug. "It's supposedly the reason that I have no friends back at home," I say. A teacher was complaining about how my "aloofness" was getting in the way of my studies and social stature. But mom kept defending that it was the way that the alphabet turned into alphabet soup when I looked at it and that my inability to stay in one place must've been it.

After Haymitch asks me more questions, giving me tips to keep certain things in and certain things out, he thinks that I fit the bill. After we have a few more minutes of questioning and him seeming satisfied with his choice, he leans forward in his chair, looking at me intently, almost curiously. He knits his fingers together as I match my gaze to his, feeling that he's challenging me for some reason. I don't know why it feels like a challenge but it just does, whenever someone makes eye contact with me.

"Percy, how much do you want to help Katniss?" he asks suddenly.

I blink. "What do you mean?"

"I know that you're scoring for both of either one of your lives to win in the Games. It's all but unknown. But just how far are you willing to go to make sure that Katniss is the one that makes it out?" he asks.

I swallow a lump in my throat. Was I that easy to read? How could he tell? Maybe I underestimated him. None the less, he seems to be making an offer that could help Katniss in the Games and I'm willing to do about anything.

I nod, my mouth dry at the surprised at his accurate observation. "Really far."

Haymitch smiles. "Just the answer I was looking for." He sits up straighter, clapping his hand on his knee. "This is what I need you to say."

* * *

I stand in line for the interviews, my hands a bit sweaty. What I'm about to do made me realize just how far I'm willing to go to ensure that Katniss' life is saved in the Games and though I say it's to pay a debt, in some distant, cold, deserted corner of my mind lays the small, little wisp of a thought that I consider Katniss my…_friend._ No matter how insane the thought is, it's there and I can't get rid of it. I could mask it from myself, could pretend it's not there but it is and it influences my every action and thought.

Portia and Cinna decided that Katniss and I should be polar opposites in this wardrobe choice. They both know how Katniss and I butt heads a lot and listen to our bickering and fights but we both manage to stay in each other's presence for the sake of our lives so they decided that Katniss would be her newfound element, fire, and I would be water. They've given me a black suit with ocean blue cuffs and tie a ocean mist perfume…a lot of it. The smell of the salty, sea breeze wafts from me as I walk and the material in the black suit is shiny and very flexible so each time that I move or touch it, it gives it an illusion of water rippling. They've swept the hair that grazes my face to the side and made the ends curve up in an interesting natural yet artificial way. But either way, it ended up looking like a wave. The rest of my hair was left alone.

As Rue goes up in her little fairy-like dress, Katniss looks nervous. I could see her flaming red dress with jewels at the bottom begin to shake a bit and I know that she's shaking her leg and tapping her foot under it. I'm not sure if it was my imagination or not but I think that I saw flames on the dress. I ignore the thoughts, waving it off as some new, genius thing from Cinna's mad mind and dare to reach over to flatten my palm over her small hand. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with poison until they meet mine. I'm not sure if my gaze was reassuring or deadly enough to make her eyes soften that way but either way, she softened up and relaxed. I give her a reassuring nod and her eyes wander to my chest, looking at the black in the suit, obviously drawn to the rippling that my nodding has caused and I look down to see if my judgment was correct. Yep, there it is, the rippling. I smile a bit.

"Cinna may be insane but he comes up with good ideas," I say.

She chuckles a bit. "I've got flames, you've got waves."

I smile but then look at her. "Flames?"

She moves her legs under her dress and there they go, licking themselves up her leg until they jewels run out. I smile in approval. I knew it.

"Now for the girl on fire! District 12's very own Katniss Everdeen!" Caesar Flickerman's voice calls out. Katniss stiffens a bit, looking at me for support, surprisingly. I just give her a smile and a nod and she stands up, heading towards the stage.

Now it's my time to panic.

I'm next. I'm supposed to play aloof. How the heck am I supposed to play aloof again? I don't know but all I've got in my mind is what I'm supposed to say about Katniss. I'm supposed to say that I like her? No, not like, _love_. Well, the part about me volunteering for her was right but not for the reason that the Capitol would think. They'll just assume. But the part about admitting my "undying love" for her is a definite lie. If Haymitch is expecting for us to have sponsors, he's right, but then it would make both Katniss and I a target. The Careers would assume that Katniss is some sort of weakness—which she is but not in this way—and drag her into whatever battles I might be fighting in the Games.

"And District 12's male tribute, Percy Jackson!" Caesar Flickerman's voice calls out and my heart freezes. How much time has passed? It's my turn already? Was it over that quickly?

All thoughts flood out of my head as I mechanically rise to my feet, not looking at the audience. If I'm going to play aloof, I've got to be distant and a bit cold. But as I see a flash of bright colors and heavily make-upped people, I suddenly remember where I am, why I'm here and I'll most likely die tomorrow. I could feel my mood automatically darken and I shun them partially, but not enough to make it look like I absolutely despise them, even though I do.

I sit down next to Caesar, trying to look anywhere but him. I look at the screen behind us, at the reflection of lights on the floor, the rippling of my suit but I could only distract myself for so long until the questions begin.

"Well, you're looking a bit broody today, Percy. How's our District 12 male tribute doing this afternoon?" Caesar asks, tilting his head at me in a curious manner.

I look at him and shrug. "I'm fine, I guess. Not much to do at our level," I say.

Caesar looks at me curiously. "Well, I heard that they have quite a view of the city. Is that true?" he asks.

I remember the twinkling lights and thinking about their similarity to the fireflies in a meadow after dark. I nod, looking back at him. "Yes. Even I have to admit that you guys have a pretty good city, but I just prefer to lock myself up in my room."

Caesar makes a phony pout. "Oh, well someone seems like they're a bit of a Negative-Nelly."

The crowd laughs and I can't help but smile. Caesar is a despicable Capitol citizen but he sure does know how to save a guy from dying under thousands of scrutinizing eyes.

"So, Percy, what do you like most about the Capitol so far?" he asks.

I shrug, looking in space in thought. "Well, I'll tell you my least favorite thing. The showers. I swear, that thing is out to get me," I say seriously. It assaulted me this morning also with the bipolar temperatures and infused a coconut scent into my skin cells. It's a good thing that it sort of mixes up with the ocean scent of the perfume Portia drenched me in earlier, practically drowning me in a tub full of it.

The crowd laughs. Caesar laughs also, telling the crowd about how much he loves "this guy."

"And what problems have the showers caused you?" he asks after his laughing fits are done.

"Well, other than the sudden temperature spikes and coconut smell pelted on me, I'm doing peachy," I say in the best monotone voice.

The crowd bursts into new fits of laughter.

"So, Percy, I couldn't help but notice that you smell like an island full of coconuts and you look like you belong in a classy beach gala," the crowd laughs at this, "but Katniss Everdeen is all fire and flames. What's up with the polar opposites?"

I sigh, scratching the space behind my ear. "Well, I must admit that when we're not in flames on a golden chariot—" the crowd laughs"—Katniss and I actually make a lot of banter."

The crowd and Caesar laugh at my confession. "So I see that you two are like fire and water, is that what you mean?" he asks.

I nod. "Yep but…we're still, in a way, a team. I'm not sure about her but I actually consider us friends."

"Oh, so you two are a team. Since Katniss has flames, what do you have? Is your outfit also _magically_ modified, like hers?"

I raise my brows, remembering the rippling and waves. "Oh, yeah, actually, do. I'm not sure if you noticed but, Cinna and Portia, actually did this to my suit."

I press the shiny fabric, looking at Caesar's eyes widen with joy and excitement as the ripples spread from that spot to the rest of my chest. I smile, satisfied as I move around a bit more, listening to the audience's gasps of awe and wonder.

Caesar raises a brow at me. "Marvelous, just marvelous! But onto other matters…I wanted to ask you a question." I look at him, my brows furrowed. "At the Reaping, when you volunteered for the Hunger Games, what exactly were you thinking?"

I stiffen a bit, wondering how I should answer. Haymitch said that if they asked me that I would be able to cut the confession short and say it but he's asking what I was thinking not why I volunteered.

"Well, truthfully…I wasn't thinking," I say honestly.

Caesar and the crowd laughs. He grabs onto his stomach and cleans an invisible tear from the edge of his eye.

"Well, when you _could_ think afterwards, what was it that you were thinking?" he asks.

I swallow a lump the size of a rock in my throat and look down at my fiddling fingers. "Well…I was actually hoping to…protect someone in the Games. And since there's only two of us…you guys can put two and two together."

Caesar and the crowd are silent for a moment. A screen on the wall in front of Caesar and I has Katniss' face on it. I don't dare to look.

"So…you wanted to protect Katniss Everdeen?" he asks cautiously.

I nod, biting my lip. She is so going to kill me for this. I would want to kill myself too. Maybe that's allowed in the Games, is it?

"Is she your cousin or a relative?" he asks.

Now's the time to put my acting skills to the test. I scratch behind my ear once more, feigning nervousness. I give him a nervous smile.

"Well, actually, no. Um, it's that… I sorta…" I trail off and hope that he pieces it together so that I wouldn't have to say it aloud.

There's a pregnant pause and the whole audience is quiet, some even give out pained cries and some men in the crowd give me sad faces. I look away and turn to Caesar.

Caesar gives me a look that looks like sincere pity and I hate it. I fight the urge to punch him in the jaw. I _don't_ need anyone's pity.

"Oh, so you and Katniss?"

The screen in front of us reveals Katniss again and I don't dare turn to look at her, ignoring her face again.

"No, it's not like that. I just…it's a one-sided type of admirer thing," I say, nodding and rubbing the back of my neck, hoping that this is what people do when they're nervous.

Caesar nods, a look of sympathy crosses over his face. "Oh, well, that's a shame, now isn't it?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah, it sorta is."

"So, you say this now why?" he asks.

I shrug. "Well, it was gnawing at me for some time, since I volunteered and…I just decided to get it out of my system before I go to the Games. Just to get it over with."

There's a long pause. Suddenly, the audience begins to call out to me sending me their blessing and telling me about how romantic and tragic this is.

Just then, the buzzer goes off and the interview is over. I don't smile when he announces my name again and gives me a farewell, turning me to the cheering audience and raising my hand like if I'm a victor of some sort. I do, however, give him a smile along with a nod when he wishes me luck in protecting Katniss and that Panem gives us their hearts or something like that.

The trip to the Training Center and into the elevators is all a blur. I don't notice how much effort Katniss throws into avoiding me, I don't notice how while the crowd and chaperones leave, I don't notice Katniss is giving me a death glare and I don't notice her shoving her hands on my chest until I'm on the ground, glass flowers digging into my palms as I hiss in pain, looking at her venomously.

"What the hell was that for?" I roar, anger bubbling up inside me.

"You had no right! No right to go saying those things about me!" she shouts at me, returning my venom with her own.

Just then, the elevator opens to bring in Effie, Cinna, Portia and Haymitch.

"What's going on?" Effie squeals as she sees me on the ground. "Did you fall?"

I glare at Katniss, making sure that she sees the daggers in my eyes and begin to wonder why I couldn't just kill her in the Games again. Then I remember Tyson and mom and I remember the whole reason that they're still alive.

I shake my head, standing up hastily. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine," I growl, picking out glass shards from my palms.

"You're clearly _not_ fine," Haymitch says.

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" Katniss hisses at him. "This was all your idea! Turning into some fool in front of the _entire country_!"

"It was _my_ damn idea!" I snap at her, coming to Haymitch's side. I might as well take blame for people. It's not like they can do anything to me, I'm going to die tomorrow anyways. "He was just the help."

"Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!" she cries out, attempting to lunge at me.

As I begin to raise my hands to shove her away, Haymitch comes in between us, pinning Katniss to the wall. "You really _are_ a fool if you can't see what he did for you!"

"He made me look weak!" she hisses.

"He made you look desirable! And let's face it, you can use all the help you can get in that department. You were as romantic as dirt until he said he wanted you. Now they all do. You're all they talk about. The star-crossed lovers of District 12!" he says in such a way that makes me question his sanity.

I wince as I pull out one shard that's in extra deep and it breaks into three different shards that are still stuck in there.

"But we're not star-crossed lovers!" she says.

"Who cares? It's all a big show. It's all how you're perceived. The most I could say about you after your interview was that you were nice enough, although that in itself was a small miracle. Now I can say you're a heartbreaker. Oh, oh, oh, how the boys back home will fall longingly at your feet. Which do you think will get you more sponsors?"

The small part about the boys falling longingly at her feet makes me cringe in disgust. It's true. I know about how Haymitch and the other fallen victor's love lives spiked hysterically after they returned home from the Games. Girls were falling all over their feet until Haymitch picked one out to be his wife. But she soon died for reasons unknown and the other one is widowed.

Katniss pushes away from him, and Cinna embraces her in a hug. "He's right, Katniss."

"I should have been told, so I didn't look so stupid," she grumbles.

"No, your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real," Portia says as she asses my hands, glimpsing up at her once and looking at me.

I suddenly remember Gale and it's all pieced together to me. I glare at Katniss, sure that this is the reason that she's so pissed off.

"This is about him, isn't it? About your little boyfriend?" I snarl, drawing my hands away from Portia and approaching Katniss slowly.

She blink, a bit shocked. "What was his name? Gale?"

She blushes beet red. "He's not my boyfriend."

I sneer. "Whatever. Well, rest assured, you're the last person that I'd ever want to be involved with, Katniss Everdeen, so you don't need to be worried about that."

Then I walk away, ignoring her blazing eyes and gasps from Cinna, Portia and Effie.

I walk to my room and peel off the suit. I put on a blue shirt and leave my boxers on. I skip dinner, deciding that I don't want to face Katniss. I must admit that even _I_ think that what I said was a bit cold, but I don't want to regret any of it. I don't want to feel guilty and seeing her will have the guilt filling me up until I apologize. I don't want to apologize. I want her to know that she can't just push me around like that, expecting that I wouldn't bite back. I can't seem weak. Not even to her. Any lingering thought of Katniss being my friend has diminished and, in my point of view, we're back to the shaky truce.

A soft knock from the door startles me a bit but I don't jump or react. I just stand up and open it, seeing an Avox. She comes in and removes any glass shards from my palm, spreading an ointment over it and the cuts turn to dried over scabs. She leaves and I fall to the bed again, inspecting the scabs. I linger on the thought of how it would have been to live like this, to have medical equipment like this available every day of my life and cringe. I would have been one of _them_. I shudder at the thought.

Another soft knock comes to the door and I open it, expecting Haymitch or Effie or someone else but the sight before me leaves me shell-shocked. Standing there, biting the inside of her lip, is Katniss Everdeen. She wears a fuzzy nightgown and I realize how dark it is in the room and the hallway. How long was I spacing out in the room? It seemed like minutes.

"I'm sorry…" she says, her words trailing off.

"For what?" I ask stiffly, knowing exactly why she's apologizing.

"For shoving you earlier," she says, looking almost ashamed.

We stay there silently. After a while, I take a deep breath.

"It's okay," I say. I look down the hallway, seeing that it's empty. "So what are you doing up this late?"

She sighs. "My mind wouldn't turn off."

"Remembering your family?" I ask, my voice gruff.

She shakes her head, actually looking a bit guilty. I would feel a small hatred for her not thinking about her family but I wasn't either so I had no right to go on doing that.

"Do you want to go to the roof top?" she suggests.

I look back into my room. It is getting a bit stuffy and realize how claustrophobic I suddenly feel. I shudder at the thought of how long I was in there without noticing. I nod.

"Yes. Just let me get some clothes so I don't freeze to death," I say dryly. It's almost as if she barely notices my attire, or lack of attire and nods, a blush creeping up her neck. I begin to wonder how much boys—or men, you never know—she's actually seen in boxers but then brush off the thought. What's the use of thoughts like those?

I pull on a green shirt and black slacks and go back to her at the doorway. I gesture for her to take the lead and we walk to the elevator in silence. It's a short ride, us being the top level on the building and everything, and our bodies are soon in the cold, fresh night air. It feels rejuvenating, the feeling of the wind against my skin. It kisses my cheeks and rids me of my momentary worries of the Games, which are tomorrow and the thoughts of knowing that there will be a time that I will have to risk my life for the girl beside me.

We move to the railing and the sight of the after party of the interviews is right there, lights flashing and people dancing everywhere. The occasional shout and cheer is heard but the cries and calls of one person to another are ongoing and restless. The wide streets are filled with their bright clothes figures dancing in a sea of partygoers. I've never been to a party. I don't know what to do. This is one of those very few circumstances where I envy one of their advantages to living. They can afford to waste time and be with friends and leave the house to do something absolutely pointless.

"I really am sorry, Percy," she says. I mull over her words, not knowing how to respond. Yeah, I already accepted her apology. What else does she want? I just keep staring out at the crowd, my gaze flickering from an Avox that holds a tray of cocktails to another that serves champagne to a person. "But…I just felt too…_mad_ to think clearly. I thought that you were trying to make me look weak."

I sigh, tilting my head back and closing my eyes, taking a deep breath. "That's actually the last thing that I want to do. Truthfully, I just went along with it to get us more sponsors. You need as much help as you can get."

She turns to me, her eyes narrowing. "Are you saying that I'm weak?"

I sigh. "No. I'm just saying that you need as much help as you can get so that we can be sure that you'd win."

"Because I'm too weak to win them on my own?!" she spits, her voice growing louder.

"I'm not saying that you're weak!" I tell her, snapping my head to her and taking a step closer. "I'm saying that if there ever is a time that you don't have food and I'm not around, they'll be there to help you!"

"Because I just can't take care of myself, huh, Percy?" she says.

"I never said that," I tell her gruffly. "You do realize that you're the only one implying these things. It's almost like if you don't want to win."

"Well, it doesn't seem like you're thinking of yourself much either," she snaps.

"What do you mean?"

"You've pointed out everything about me in the Games, trying to help me and collecting sponsors and everything and the whole 'star-crossed lovers' thing doesn't benefit you in any way. What is wrong with you? You've only been helping me since we got here," she points out suspiciously.

"I'm not sure if you noticed but I'm not planning on winning the Games," I reply.

"What about your family, your brother? If you love them so much, you should be looking for all your competition's weaknesses, including me," she says, pointing her thumb to herself.

"_You_ are the only reason they're alive!" I shout to her, my voice cracking. "If it wasn't for you, they wouldn't be alive! I-I…I owe you their lives… and mine! You are the one that drew me to the woods, you are the one that showed me hope in my family's survival. You showed me that I still have hope." She stands in front of me, shocked. I look down at her shoulder, the small, little Mockingjay pin lies there, just like mine. Mockingjays. Birds that were left to fend for themselves, like her. That people were hoping to die off, like her. But they found a way to survive…like her. They are a symbol for hope to the Districts but Katniss is my symbol for hope.

"You are the only reason that I still live today. You're my Mockingjay."

She stays silent, stunned at my admission. I just stare at her, my fists clenched and my pulse racing. I take a deep breath, withdrawing from her and running a hand down my face. I leave the roof without another word, proceeding to my room as I walk down the hall. I open the door and throw myself at the bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hits the mattress.


	7. Chapter 7

**Percy**

Portia wakes me up early in the morning. The sun still hasn't reared its bright head yet as we walk into the darkness of the train. She makes me dress in a thin, blue fabric as she leads me to the roof. My final dressing and preparations are going to be in the catacombs.

The hovercraft appeared out of thin air. It almost seemed to magically appear there. As soon as we see it, a ladder drops down. When I place my hands on it, my body freezes and I'm lifted. I want to struggle, I want to resist but I can't move, can't speak, can't react. It was more than unsettling and I gave up when I was safely inside. When I'm inside, the currents still doesn't release me, making me stay like a statue. Once I begin to question why I'm still stuck onto the ladder, a man in a lab coat approaches me, a syringe in his hand. Without even giving me a glance, he inserts the needle into the skin of my forearm. I don't even wince at the stabbing pain and the tracker moving the tissue inside to make itself comfortable while it rearranges my muscle. I'm about to enter what will be most likely be the death of me and I'm numb.

Then the ladder releases me and the man in the labcoat walks away, still not sparing me a glance or a farewell of some sort. Then Portia is retrieved and we wait, a wide array of food stretched out on a table in front of us. I eat none of it, not having the stomach for it because I know that, at this moment, if a crumb goes into my mouth right now, it will come out the same way.

I look out of the window as we soar across the city, the majesty of the buildings and glittering pavement and cars outshine the light of the sun itself and then we're sailing over a vast treescape. Evergreens cover every inch of it and the wilderness reminds me of home, which I might never get to return to.

After approximately half an hour passes, all light is cut off of the windows and I'm left in the dark, feeling twitchy and unsettled. When the jerk ofr the hovercraft indicated that we landed, both Portia and I stand, climbing down the ladder that leads us to a tube that takes us underground, no doubt taking us to the catacombs.

A worker gives us directions that lead us to the Stockyard-or what the Capitol might call the Launch Room-where they make my preparations and Portia gives me my last dress-up. As I enter it, I see the new equipment in there, knowing that everything in this room is brand new. I'm the only tribute that will use this room.

The Capitol consider the arenas historic sites but the Districts-at least the lower ones-consider it a graveyard. My stomach churns when I remember hearing that some Capitolists tour around them and visit the places of deaths of some tributes and sometimes even make reenactments.

A pit settles into my stomach, wondering if one man will play as me getting speared through the head.

My throat is dry and I'm sweating enough buckets to supply District 12 a watering system when I'm drying myself off from my shower and brushing my teeth. When I'm done, Portia holds a box that holds my clothes for the games.

As soon as my eyes fall on the jacket, I know that Portia didn't cast a vote for it. My clothes are a simple brown pants that give me a lot of free movement, a muddy green button-up shirt and a black hooded jacket. As Portia slips it on over my shoulder she begins to flick imaginary particles off it it and flattens it out.

"This material was designed to relfect body heat. Expect some cool days and warm nights," she tells me as she looks up at me. I don't even look at her, too wrapped up in my own thoughts. I don't bother to hide my nervousness, knowing that my death will soon come in the arena.

"You know, Percy," Portia begins, drawing my attention to her. She doesn't look at me while she flattens out the collar of my shirt underneath my jacket and soon flattens out the jacket too. "It's not a secret that you don't like me...or Cinna...or any of the stylists."

My stomach sinks to my feet, making me swallow a lump in my throat. I don't know why but suddenly having Portia know this information is actually a little bit unsettling and, dare I say it, embarrassing. I just stare down at her while she flattens out some wrinkles around the buttons of my shirt and then she looks up at me.

"But I can't help but admire you. Both Katniss and you," she continues. "You're both so strong and know what's right. You're both such fighters. It...it makes me ashamed to be who I am." She pauses for a moment as I listen to her confession, stumped. "But it doesn't mean that it stops me from admiring your skill. It was an honor serving as your stylist Percy Jackson."

She pulls me in for a hug and I just stand there, stiff, frozen and shocked. Then I hesitantly wrap my arms around her small body, returning the hug. Maybe I was wrong about people of the Capitol. Maybe they're not all bad. It's a shame that I came to realize this in the Stockyard and minutes away from the deathtrap of an arena.

Portia pulls away, wiping away a stray tear that runs down her white cheek. She reaches into a pocket of her very angle-y skirt and pulls something out. Once I inspect it closer, I realize that it's my Mockingjay pin, the one that Tyson made for me and practically an exact replica of Katniss'. Portia looks up at me for the last time as she pins it on my jacket.

"Where did you get that?" I ask quickly.

She smirks. "It was on the robe that you left behind in your second dressing. This is your District's token, is it not? It will look good, trust me. Sponsoring your District. And it helps that Katniss is wearing one just like it."

She steps back, assessing her work. "Move around, jump if you like. Make sure that it's comfortable."

I run in a full circle, jumping a few times. "It's good, Portia. It fits fine."

She nods, "Good, now all we have to do is wait."

After a few agonizing minutes that seem like centuries pass, a female voice announces that it's almost time for launch. Both Portia and I stand, my muscles pushing to walk but it feels like I'm walking through water. I walk slowly and weakly as we approach the platform.

"You can do it, Percy. Both of you," she says, giving me an encouraging smile.

"How?" I ask as I stand on the circular metal plate that will lift me to the deathtrap of an arena.

"You'll find a way," she whispers and then the glass tube begins to lower, almost not allowing me to hear the next words. "You always do."

Then we're separated by the glass, only watching each other until the plate begins to lift. I don't react. I just watch as Portia gives me a nod and a tear rolls down her cheek. Then I'm in darkness. Complete, pitch black darkness. I don't know how long I'm in darkness but I don't care. The darkness is better than what's out there.

Then I'm blinded by light and a gust of air greets me, making me take a deep breath and my heart race at the familiar smell of pine trees. I am all too familiar with pines and oaks and how to maneuver around them. Katniss and I might just have a chance at this.

Once my eyesight adjusts, my thoughts are confirmed when we are in a grassy clearing with the Cornucopia in the center with weapons and packs at the mouth of it and surrounding us are tall evergreens. I look at the mouth of the Cornucopia, knowing that the best of the weapons and supplies lay both there and inside of it but even I know that attempting to get in there is a suicidal attempt. About five feet from me is a blood-red pack. How convenient. Moving on from that, there is some wire and a meager amount of dried fruits in a plastic bag. About ten yards from that is a lone dagger, not exactly considered one of the best weapons but I could throw normal daggers also when needed.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the famous Cladius Templesmith's voice booms from all around us, making wince in acknowledgment that a bloodbath will take place within seconds.  
"Let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

Then the countdown from sixty seconds begins.

I look back at the dagger. I would only have seconds before a tribute would decide that I'm his or her target. It would be too far and I would need to get to Katniss. I wouldn't be able to get to her in time before others would decide to.

_Fifty-four, fifty-three..._

I look across from me and see Katniss staring at something with clear intention of going after it. I follow her eyes and see what catches her eye. It's a silver bow with a matching sheath set on a mound of blankets. It's about fifteen yards away from the Cornucopia and twenty yards away from her but probably sixteen away from me. I might be able to reach it and get it for her. I know how much of an advantage that would get for her. And I need to get a couple of knives. I'm stuck between her and the dagger that doesn't even look that sharp.

_Thirty-seven, thirty-six, thirty-five..._

Katniss, I immediately decide, preparing to run. I'll get the pack, dried fruits and wire then make a run for the bow. I stare at the pack, clearly intent on getting it.

_Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen..._

My eyes flicker to Katniss who still stares at the bow and her eyes wander to me. She wouldn't be able to make it. I have to get it for her. I shake my head slightly at her.

_Six, five, four..._

Only three seconds left.

_One._

Then the gong rings and I'm off, reaching the pack within seconds and lunging for the fruits and wire. While I make a grab for the wire, a girl from 4 who is armed with _my_ dagger makes a grab for it also, slicing me across the palm and making me hiss. She jumps to her feet and raises the dagger, clearly going to attempt to dig it into my back.

I tackle her before she has the chance. I unarm her as I sit atop of her and I raise it, prepared to slice her throat. Then a tear runs down her eye, her expression broken. She knows what I'm about to do and it's breaking her. I hesitate, wondering if I really have to kill her. This girl is a Career. Why is she this way?

I stand, sprinting away from her. I don't have the time. I killed about a couple of seconds with her but the bow is still available. I smirk, looking at the simple dagger that I wield in my hand. _Thanks for the dagger,_ I think.

As I'm on the run again, I see the girl from 3, Clarisse, I think, run hysterically at me with a spear. As I look at the spear, I see an interesting blue spark come from it and I come to the realization that it's charged with an electrical current, making sure that if the fatal spear wound didn't kill her victim, the electricity did. I dodge her, not looking back to see if she's after me. A body crashes into me and we both fall to the ground. I look up, momentarily confused and see the person that I crashed into. It was that girl from 10, Annabeth. Her face has blood splattered across half of her face and her hair that's tied back in a ponytail, is messed up and tangled, indicating that someone obviously pulled at it, hoping to get her.

Her eyes are wide and panicked as she jumps to her feet, renewing her grasp on the machete in her hand. I jump to my feet also, standing in front of her cautiously, prepared for any attack. Her eyes switch from something behind me to me and I almost ask her what it is before she sprints towards me, shoving me to the side and dashing off. I look back and see her run for the back of the Cornucopia, killing off the boy from 5 that tried to approach her with a mace. Once I focus more on the shadow cast off by the Cornucopia, I realize that her partner, Nico, stands back there and they run off into the woods.

I almost stand there for a moment, dumbfounded at what just happened when I realize where I am and how likely of a chance it is that someone will come up to me and kill me off. I begin to make a run for the bow and sheath again.

I swoop in for the sheath and bow, not once breaking my stride at all. I realize that along with the bow and sheath, I've dragged a couple of rolled up blankets with me. I smile slightly at my luck. I scan the area for Katniss, finding her grappling for a bright orange pack with the boy from District 9. I watch, alarmed as he begins to reach his waist band for a machete that hangs in his belt. My heart speeds up. She's gonna die. She is. It hasn't even been three minutes into the games and I already couldn't save her. I attempt to bump up my speed but something suddenly shocks me. I see a knife suddenly appear on the boy's back and within seconds, he's on the ground, dead. I see where the knife protrudes from his back and my trained eye tells me that it was thrown and aimed in suck a way that it dug deeply into his spinal column, instantly killing him. I look around and quickly find the culprit, finding Clove, the girl from 2. I watch as she runs for Katniss, in one hand a dozen knives and the other wielding a knife obviously aimed at Katniss.

I begin to sprint again, panicking when I see her throw the knife. I sneak a peek at Katniss, finding that the hiked up her backpack over her head and the knife lodged itself into it, not reaching her head. I let out a sigh of relief and focus back on Clove. Right now, she's a threat to Katniss. I need to get rid of her.

I must've caught her eye because her face turns to me, her eyebrows that were once furrowed in frustration rise the slightest bit in amusement as she smirk, turning to throw a knife at me. It whizzes towards me and I dodge it, tackling her to the ground. She lashes out, getting me on the shoulder and cheek and piercing my bicep. I pin her hands to either side of her face and look at her face with is covered with drops of the blood from my cheek. She glares at me and smirks.

"You'll never make it. We're going to kill you, then her," she says, no, _promises_.

I press my lips into a thin line and drag my dagger across her throat, listening as her gasp turns into a strangled gargle. I watch as the fierce, ruthless light in her eyes dies but the sickening smirk stays on her face. I look at my hands. Somehow, her blood wound up all over them, soaking them and obviously infusing its metallic smell into my skin. When I go to Katniss, each time that I bring my hands to my face, they will smell like her blood and remind me of the life I ended today.

I stand, looking at the blood pooling in my hands and fist them, watching as it drips out of between my fingers. I look away, looking at Katniss and she stares at me, her eyes wide and horrified. She's not alone in the horrified part.

I look back down at Clove's deceased body and grab the knives that are in her hands and pull her pack off of her. No one's going to use it any more, why not?

I run to Katniss, her bow and sheath slung over my shoulder. She flinches away a bit, almost like if she expects me to be the one to end her life. He ignores that, trying to steer clear of the hurt that is slowly creeping up on his thoughts. He grabs her hand and yanks her to her feet, staining her small hand with Clove's blood. Then we make a run for it once she falls into step with me. I hear a roar of anger and frustration. I recognize the voice as Cato's. Obviously, he found his District partner's body and he won't be happy when he finds out who the culprit that ended her life was.

Once we run out of breath and we seem far enough away from the Cornucopia, we slow down to a stop and we settle down on a log. As we catch our breath, I watch Katniss, seeing her heaving chest start to rise as much as it should normally rise and I see her close her mouth and breathe through her nose. I lick my lips, clinging the boy and sheath off of my shoulder and hand the items to her. I see her eyes trail down my face when I offer them to her and they go to my hands, which have blood that already browned and crusted under my fingernails. I look at her face and realize that she has specks of reddish-brown. She takes the bow and sheath, thanking me with a weak voice.

"You're welcome," I manage to say, the pain of the deep wound that Clove gave to my bicep beginning to catch up with me. I wince as the pain steadily grows, stinging and aching. I wonder if Clove's pack has a first-aid. "We should see what we've got."

She nods, obviously avoiding talking. I watch as she sling the bow over her shoulder and bundle up a plastic sheet. I look at the plastic sheet, curious. Maybe we could use it in case of downpour. I look back at my blood red pack. I'm not sure if it caught any splattered blood because of the color. It would blend right in. I shake my head, chasing the thoughts away. Right now, I have to see what I have to work with.

So I have the blankets that I managed to scoop up along with the sheath and bow, the dozen of knives that I took from Clove and the dried fruits that will serve us as food for the time being. And Clove's pack, a rather _large_ pack, might I say, is muddy green, a good color, unlike Katniss' pack which will most likely be easy to spot within the evergreens. I open mine and find a thermos. I pick it up and shake it next to my ear. I hear nothing. I pop it open and, just as I guessed, it was empty. I sigh, moving on. There's a loaf of bread that's wrapped in plastic to keep it from going stale and painkiller pills. A bundle of rope that will most likely be able to serve for a lot of things. I thank my lucky stars for it. And that's it. My pack inventory is very limited. I move on to Clove's pack.

As soon as I open it, I know that this was lying at the mouth of the Cornucopia. It's filled to the top with supplies. It has a sleeping bag, sunglasses, a small first-aid kit, three containers filled with three different ointments. Obviously they're some sort of medicine. I dig through more of it, finding more rope, a loaf of bread, different types of meat jerky, dried fruits, wire, a set of knives, a shirt and pants and an extra pair of hiking boots. I examine the clothes, wondering if they fit all sizes even though most of the tributes haven't been fed properly most of their lives. I seriously questioned the shoes though.

I hold them in my hand, the soles have a pattern on them and are made of hard rubber, obviously making you good prey to track but able to create more friction when it comes to climbing trees. I feel the material and it's rough and durable. I suddenly remember hearing about this. Sometimes, the Capitol makes materials that stretch but don't change in appearance at all. I bite my lip. They might come in handy but I'll have to do something about the soles. I shrug, placing them back in the pack. That's the last of it.

As I place everything back in, I feel Katniss' hand on my bicep, on the part that Clove stabbed with her knife. I hiss, immediately pulling away but causing more pain with the movement.

"You're hurt," she says simply.

I look at the wound, seeing that it's deep. It needs to be treated but that would give the Careers enough time to reach us. I shake my head.

"I'll treat it later," I tell her, beginning to place the first-aid back into the pack and ignoring the sting of the cuts.

"It'll get infected," she tells me, yanking the first-aid away from my hands and beginning to open it.

"The longer we stay in this spot is the closer that _they_ are to us," I tell her, gesturing to the direction that we came from.

"The longer that _that_ goes untreated, along with the other cuts, is the closer that infection comes in," she tells me, pulling out alcohol and a sewing needle. Then the pulls out the stitching string. She looks up at me as she pulls it out. "It's a deep cut, it won't heal on its own if we just clean it."

I sigh, looking away and biting my lip as she dabs the slice on my palm and shoulder. As she dabs the one on my cheek, I strain to keep a wince and hiss from coming out. I focus on a particular eyelash that I try to keep focus on and not confuse with another one. Once she's done, I bite down on my lip as she begins to stitch the wound on my bicep together. I wince every time that the needle pierces my skin and make the insides of my cheek every time that it pulls them together. Once she finishes up, she cleans the needle and puts the first-aid away. She looks between her bright orange pack and Clove's muddy one.

"I should put some of my stuff in the packs. The orange might get us killed," she says, unloading her pack and placing a third of its contents into Clove's, since it was full already and the rest in mine since it's practically empty of anything useful. Then we begin to move again.

We keep walking downhill, the hot sun beating down on us and making me sweat.

After about an hour of walking, she suddenly turns to me. "The lake," she says suddenly, her face pasty and flushed. I look at her confused.

"What?" I question.

"The lake that was next to the Cornucopia. What if it's the only lake at the arena?" she asks.

Now that I think back, I did notice a bit of blue back at the Cornucopia in the corner of my eye but I didn't think much of it. I was thinking about how to get to Katniss while getting supplies. I shake my head.

"No, there can't just be one lake in one arena. There's gotta be another one..." I trail off. "Let's just keep walking. Unless they don't have their geography straight, the valley's should create a run-off for water and there should be a river down there. At least I remember _that_ from school."

After a couple of hours of walking and finding nothing, it begins to get dark and it's blatantly clear that we have to make camp. Katniss makes two traps from the wire that was in her pack but the traps might hint off any wandering tribute of others nearby so we walk five more minutes before deciding to settle down. Katniss and I pick a tree carefully. She picks out a willow that isn't extremely tall but closely grown with other willows around it, offering good concealment. I let her climb first to set up her sleeping bag at the best spot and then I climb afterwards. I struggle climbing the tree, the stitches beginning to build tension so I climb slowly, hoping not to rip them. Once I settle down on a branch that is lower than Katniss', I use the rope to keep myself fastened to the branch and watch as Katniss does the same. I decided to have my pack inside the sleeping bag so that a sneaky tribute couldn't make an easy grab for it and the anthem begins to play.

It stays quiet between Katniss and I as we watch the night sky, watching as the Capitol's seal is projected into the night along with the fallen tributes. The face of Clove comes up, letting me know that both from 1 and the boy from 2 are still alive. Then I see the boy from 4, also letting me know that the girl from 4 did make it after all. Then the boy from District 5 and I remember seeing Annabeth be the one to end his life. Both tributes from 6 and 7 and the boy from 8. Both from 9 and there's one more. It's Annabeth. The one that I saw run off into the woods with Nico. Did Nico possibly kill her? No, he was only fourteen. He wouldn't want to kill someone, would he? As I contemplate over this, the Capitol's anthem plays again and ends with musical flourish and I'm left in the silence of the night, wondering what tomorrow will bring. I have to get us to water or we're both goners.

* * *

**Hey guys! Sorry I didn't update for this(I get busy at times) but here you go.**

**I know that Clove stays alive and is a big part in the book but, think about it. That's with Peeta, this is with Percy...two completely different people! Besides, I've always wanted that b*!$ dead since I read about her.**

**I'm extremely sorry for killing Annabeth off! But, this is the Hunger Games guys! Not everyone lives. Some people have to die, believe it or not. And for any of you who are freaking out over it, no, Nico _did not_, I repeat,_ did not_ kill Annabeth.**

**So, here you go. Sorry for being so late. Please leave a review and hope you read until the end which is a long way from now.**


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